


The Great Big Book of Destiel

by ring_around_the_daisy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Collection of one shots, College Student Dean, Comedy, Criminal Dean, Dean comforts Cas, Drunk Dean, Fluff, M/M, Multiple chapters, Police Officer Castiel, Professor Castiel, Romance, Romantic Comedy, Suggestive Themes, awkward cuteness, one shots, some i am seriously thinking of expanding though, the vast majority will never be longer fics, unintentional fondling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-26
Updated: 2016-07-18
Packaged: 2018-04-06 05:53:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 25,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4210455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ring_around_the_daisy/pseuds/ring_around_the_daisy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is basically going to be a big conglomeration of Destiel ficlets I write.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Roses and Candles

Dean had been a candle maker for about four years now. Sure he enjoyed cars and sports and other manly things but he also loved candles. His favorite were the ones he made into intricate shapes. He had a carving knife he used for those and those were usually commissioned from him. About two years back he'd gotten the space and set up shop. He'd had help from his friend Bobby who he used to work for. The man was extremely rough around the edges but he was also the biggest father figure he had. His mom had died when he was little in a fire and his dad had passed a while back from alcohol poisoning. After his moms death, his dad hadn't been the same, hadn't been able to cope. It had been Bobby that stepped up into a father role when his own father stopped being able to properly function.

Bobby was also the one who let him know that it was okay to not fit into the stereotypical macho role his dad had wanted him to be. His dad had told him his whole life what real men did. Real men drank whiskey and didn't wince at the burn, real men worked on cars and could fix any problem on them, real men could pull any woman they wanted to, and, most importantly, real men were anything but feminine. Dean was far from feminine looking. Standing at 6'1 and weighing in at 200 pounds, he had the build his dad had been proud of. His jaw was square and his voice deep, everything about him seemed to scream masculine. Still, appearances aren't everything. Like his teachers in elementary school had told him, 'Never judge a book by its cover.' That couldn't be more true when it came to Dean Winchester.

Underneath the macho shield he put up like amour, he was a lot more. His favorite show was Dr. Sexy MD and his guilty music pleasure was listening to Taylor Swift. He liked to do karaoke even though his voice was horrible and he also loved to cook. Another thing was that he loved to create things with his hands. One thing that had always caught his eye were candles. They all smelled so different from each other and no two seemed exactly alike. The wax they were made of was soft and pliable, perfect for creating masterpieces. It hadn't been until his dad died that he'd really gotten the courage to try to be more like who he felt inside. It had started more in private, of course, before Bobby was able to give him the confidence boost he needed to be able to show the rest of the world who he truly was.

After getting the shop, his candles had quickly became a big hit. He frequently got orders from all over the state for custom candles that he would shape himself before sending them off. The money from the commissions was good but he also enjoyed keeping the shop up as well. There were displays all around the store with different groups of candles. The holidays brought out his more creative side with limited time only candles with special scents and shapes. At the moment, his main display was a pyramid of candles that was quite sizable. Off to the side, he had a pot of hot wax going. He had a little custom candle making kit he sold and it was mostly for the kids, really. They would come in with their parents, buy it, and he'd let them make their own candles with special scents as well. It was always nice to see the way their faces lit up once they saw they'd really made something.

Business had been slower than normal, though, for about a month. It was mostly due to the flower shop that popped up next door. People had been flocking to it since it was the newest thing in town. Dean knew that after the novelty of it wore off, his business would level out again. At the moment, he was occupying himself with wiping down the checkout counter when he heard the door open, the little bell above it dinging. A woman came in with a bunch of red roses that were from the shop next door. "Hey, welcome to Winchester Candle Company, how can I help you?" He fixed her with his best winning smile as she walked up to the counter.

"Hi, I hope my request isn't too strange here. I was wondering if you could take these roses and coat them in wax? It's for a project I have going on." said the woman, holding the flowers out to him.

Dean took the roses and looked down at them. While he'd never tried something like that before, he was sure he could pull it off. "Uh, okay. Come back in about a half hour and they should be done." The woman thanked him before walking out of the store. He set the roses on the counter and pulled a chair up to his wax pot. "Here goes nothing." Picking one of the roses up, he put it over the wax pot before dipping it in. He held it in the hot wax for a few seconds before he pulled it out again and carefully righted it. The clear wax stuck to the petals and quickly hardened over them. "Hmm...not bad Winchester."

The process was repeated for the other roses and when he was done, he had them tied together with a spare ribbon. True to her word, the woman showed up when the half hour wait was over and walked up to him. When he showed her the flowers, her eyes lit up and her mouth dropped open ever so slightly. Phew, he hadn't fucked this up. 

"Here you go, ma'am. A dozen wax dipped roses." said Dean, handing them to her. When asked about how much it would cost, he stopped for a second. He honestly hadn't even considered cost until now. Quickly, though, he decided that a dollar a rose probably wouldn't be too bad. 

"Um...how does a dollar a rose sound? You had a dozen so that would be $12." said Dean, hoping she would accept the price.

The woman nodded and pulled out a 20 and handed it to him. He gave her the change and sent her on her way. Little did he knew that he'd just unintentionally started a trend.

====================================================

It had now been a few months since that lady had come in and asked if he could dip those roses in wax for her. Shortly after her, more and more people had started coming in and wanting to get wax dipped roses as well. He soon deduced that the woman must be the town gossip or something similar since everyone seemed to want the wax dipped roses now. Soon, it was his most popular item and he'd taken to just buying roses and dipping them before hand to sell. That was until the guy he'd been buying them from decided to up his price. The guy now wanted $30 for one dozen red roses and Dean had flat out told him he was not paying that ridiculous price. So, now, without his normal supply of roses, he was panicking. That is until he came to the shop early one morning and saw a bushel of roses waiting outside the front door.

He looked around before picking them up and taking them inside, setting them down on the counter near the back of the store. Inside, a card was tucked inside neatly, nestled between a few of the flowers. He plucked the card out of its resting place and opened it up. Inside was neat cursive writing in pen.

_Dear Mr. Winchester_

_I couldn't help but notice that your supply of roses had run out. Accept this as a gift from me to you._

_Signed,_

_Castiel_

Castiel....Castiel....oh! That must be the name of the guy who ran the flower shop next to him. He'd have to be sure to thank the guy some time for this. Honestly, it was quite literally saving his ass right now. With his rose problem solved, he got the wax pot ready and then started dipping the roses. When he was done and they were all dry, he set them in their normal display and opened up the shop. People came in and were relieved to find that he was no longer out of the roses and now had a fresh stock. True to form, though, they were all bought out before the day was done. After the last customer was gone and he'd locked up shop, he remembered to go over to the shop next door to thank the guy. When he got to the door, however, the store was dark and the tan continental that normally sat in front of the store was gone.

Oh, well. He'd thank the guy tomorrow for being a fucking saint. Getting in his impala, he turned on the engine and drove home to his small one bedroom apartment to watch a marathon of Dr. Sexy MD.  


======================================================

Dean made sure to get to his shop extra early the following morning so he could do his opening chores and still have time to pop next door to thank the guy for the roses. Much to his surprise, another basket of them was waiting at his shops front door. He picked them up and went inside, setting them on the counter and looking for a card. This time, though, a card was absent from the flowers. Not really having time to ponder that, he got his wax pot ready and dipped the flowers. When he was done, he checked the clock and saw that he had probably a good half hour until he opened up. Not wanting to miss his chance this time, he hurried out and went next door, knocking on it.

There was a rattling sound from the door, something that was common since the buildings were old. He waited a few minutes and was about to turn away when he heard the lock move and saw the door open. He had a thank you speech ready but all that seemed to fly out of his ass when he saw the man in front of him. He was only a little shorter than Dean and had lightly tanned skin and a 5 o'clock shadow on his face. His brown hair stuck up every which way and he had the most striking blue eyes Dean had ever seen. So, this was the mysterious flower shop owner that he'd worked next door to for months now and hadn't even bothered to meet.

"I assume you got my gift?" said the man, Castiel, Dean mentally corrected himself.

Okay, this guys voice could not be real. It was deep and gravelly, how you would sound if your throat was scratchy and dry. The man looked up at Dean expectantly for an answer and it took Dean a bit to connect his brain to his mouth again. His tongue seemed to stick to the roof of his mouth and his stomach was doing back flips inside of him. This was so not helping him make a good first impression on the guy standing in front of him.

"Uh, yeah. I did. Thanks for that, by the way. My normal supplier decided to jack up his price to $30 per dozen." said Dean, shoving his hands in his pockets so he wouldn't start rubbing one against the backs of his neck which he seemed to do a lot when he was nervous.

"That seems very unreasonable." said Castiel, narrowing his eyes into a squint. Like this, the main in front of him resembled a kitten almost. 

"Yeah, it is. I told him where he could stick his new price." said Dean with a small chuckle before chewing on his bottom lip.

A silence fell between them after that but it wasn't awkward. They simply stood there for a bit looking at each other. It seemed Castiel was studying Dean as much as Dean was studying Castiel. Dean's eyes went down his body and saw that he had a medium frame. He wasn't buff but he certainly wasn't a scrawny guy. He had tan slacks on paired with a deep blue Henley. The clothes had a relaxed fit on him which seemed to greatly contrast with the mans ramrod straight posture.

"Hey....would you....uh..." fumbled Dean, trying to find the right words to not make a complete fool out of himself.

"Would I what?" asked Castiel, eyes going back into a squint and him tilting his head to the side.

"Would you like to go to dinner with me some time, maybe?" asked Dean, internally cringing at his own words. For all he knew, they guy could be straight and married with two kids. He was really hoping he hadn't just asked out a married man. If he had, he would never live that down at all.

"Dinner would be nice." said Castiel, a small smile spreading over his face. It reached his eyes and made them light up, Dean's heart deciding them to jump into his throat.

"How does tonight sound?" asked Dean, hoping to continue with the roll he seemed to be on.

"Tonight is good. I can meet you after closing hours, if that's okay." said Castiel, sound a little bit hesitant now.

"Sounds perfect. I know a place that serves the best burgers." said Dean, smile presenting itself and his shoulders relaxing finally. The old supplier jacking up his prices seemed to be the best thing that had happened to him in a long time.


	2. The Private File

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel stumbles upon something of Dean's he wasn't meant to see...

Castiel was tired as he flew into the bunker. Not in the traditional human sense of the word. He was, however, mentally drained. Heaven was wearing him down more and more each day. His nerves were fried and he just wanted some quiet for a bit. That's why he came to the bunker. It was big but also quiet for the time being with Sam and Dean fast asleep in their beds. Looking at a clock, he saw that it was about 1 o'clock in the morning. With nothing to really do, he strolled into the library. Surely there would be an interesting read there. The books were of all kinds and he always enjoyed being able to pour over them. And now, since Dean was asleep, he wouldn't have to listen to him saying he was a 'nerdy angel' which could get quite annoying. It had been slightly humorous the first time but now it just made him want to groan out of frustration, a human habit he seemed to have picked up.

As he entered the library, he sees the long table with several ornate chairs. At one time, this must have been a meeting place. Now, though, it was empty and a thin layer of dust coated the table and chairs. There were a few cracks in the wood, showing its age and all it had been through. He was moving to one of the bookshelves when something caught his eye. It was Dean's laptop that was still open but the screen was black. It was a much simpler one than what Sam had seeing as how the elder Winchester seemed to be allergic to any new technology. He pulled the chair out and sat down, looking at the laptop. He was curious as to what would be on here. As he was about to move his finger along the touch pad to bring the screen to life again, he hesitated. No, he shouldn't. This was Dean's laptop and he deserved privacy. 

Resolutely, he pushed the chair back and went to a book case. His eyes scanned the weathered spines. Some were falling apart and some were close to that state. However, most of the books seemed to be very well preserved. He found one that interested him and gently pulled it out from its place on the shelf. He walked back to the table but made a point of sitting away from the laptop. He opened the book and flipped to the first page and started to read. Curiosity, though, was itching at the back of his mind. All these human temptations had changed him greatly since he took his vessel years ago. Before he would have been able to resist temptation easily. Now, he was more inclined to indulge it and not deny himself of that.

He looked up and stared at the laptop. If it were possible, his eyes probably would have burned holes into the machine. It just sat there, screen black and void, mocking him. Clenching his jaw, he looked away and attempted to focus on the text he was reading. He got halfway through the book before the urge became too much. He shut the book and went over to the laptop and roused the screen. It flickered to life and was then asking for a password. Castiel set his hands over the keys and began typing something in. He knew Dean better than anyone having built him from the ground up after rescuing him from hell. It wouldn't be hard to imagine what he would use as a password. It was probably an insult of some sort to Sam.

Just as he thought, it was a crudely worded insult towards Sam. Castiel didn't understand crude humor all that well, finding it distasteful. When the screen loaded back to what Dean had been on before, it was research for a case. Several tabs were open and there was nothing really of interest there. Castiel minimized the window and looked at the documents on the home page. He was starting to think he wouldn't find anything of interest when he stumbled upon one that said 'private.' Since he had already broken into the laptop, Castiel supposed it couldn't hurt too much to at least take a peak into it. After all, how bad could Dean's private document be.

Right after he clicked on it, the screen was filled with numerous images of women in various stages of undress. They all varied widely and Castiel scrolled them, not paying any one of them too much attention. It's when he got to the bottom that he paused. The last picture was a naked man. He had dark brown hair, blue eyes, some stubble, and lightly tanned skin. This seemed to be the only male image in the folder. Now feeling like he was really looking at something he shouldn't be, he closed out of the document and pulled the browser up again before promptly shutting the laptop. It clicked closed and Castiel sat back in his chair, trying to relax.

His minds eye played over the image of the man he had seen. He was quite attractive by human standards but it was less his looks and more what he had been doing in the picture that captured Castiel's interest. He'd had his legs splayed open and a hand had been wrapped around his erect penis. From the expression on the mans face the sensation had been quite pleasant. Castiel looked down at his lap and wondered if he could do the same for himself. He knew the basic mechanics of masturbation and sexual intercourse. In his time observing the Earth, he'd seen just about every carnal act that could possibly be performed. Still, he knew there was a big difference between watching and actually carrying the action out.

Knowing there was nothing he could lose, he stood up and walked over to the room the Winchester's had given him. He mainly used it for meditation when he was feeling stressed. There were various things adorning the room, small trinkets he'd come across his last few years on Earth. There were also a few pictures with Sam and Dean. Castiel was included in some of them but most of them he'd taken himself. Dean had asked him when he got the camera that would immediately spit out the image you captured why he wanted it. Castiel had responded with how he wanted something more concrete than memories for his time on Earth. Dean hadn't protested, at least not much, after that was settled. There were some pictures where he had an annoyed expression on his face and was showing his middle finger. Castiel liked these the best because behind the annoyed and disgruntled expression, he could see a hint of amusement in Dean's eyes and how the corner of his mouth just barely curved up.

Castiel closed the door behind him and locked it for extra measure. He did not want one of the brothers to come in, even if it was a mistake. As oblivious as he could be to human social norms at times, even he knew that what he was about to do was private and that you didn't want others walking in on you. He knew he needed to take his clothes off so he first kicked off his boots and then set the trench coat on the bed. Piece by piece, his clothes came off until he was completely naked. He sat on the bed but felt vaguely uncomfortable, a little too exposed. Looking over at the trench coat, he grabbed it and put it on again before getting comfortable. 

He looked down at his lap and at his soft penis. It was slightly settled to the side, nestled in a patch of dark curls with his testicles resting on the mattress. He wrapped his hand around himself and started to pull a bit like he'd seen humans do before. All he got for those efforts was a short burst of pain. No, he couldn't just simply tug on it, that wouldn't work. And the skin was dry and seemed cause a bit of a friction burn. He got up and looked around the room and in the bedside tables. He then finds a small bottle of lotion. He'd bought it a while back because he'd liked the smell so much. Dean had pointed out that it was women's lotion but Castiel didn't care. That simple fact didn't change how delightful it smelled.

Now, it seemed, the lotion would be fulfilling another purpose. He squeezed a bit of it in his hand and then sat down again, ready to do this right. When he wrapped his hand around himself again, the sensation was definitely more pleasant. Still, it didn't do anything to give him an erection. His thoughts strayed over to Dean and what he thought about when he masturbated. It was probably of voluptuous women that he would then engage in intercourse with. His thoughts shifted from that to then Dean, laid out on his bed, had wrapped around himself, and stroking slowly. How sweat would be broken out across his tan body and how he would bite his bottom lip ever so slightly to keep from making any noise. His eyes would be squeezed shut but would open every so often to look at the door to make sure it was still closed, that he was still alone.

These were the thoughts that had Castiel descending further into the wonders of human pleasure. He tried his best to keep quiet so as not to wake the two hunters up. If they woke up to grunts and groans, they would assume he was being attacked and try to rescue him as their first instinct. The longer he went on, the more strained his breathing got and the more pronounced the moans and grunts became but he still kept it at an appropriate level. He could feel himself getting so close and his movements increased. His hair was slightly sticking to his forehead now and some sweat was also pooled in the dip of his stomach. One stroke that he started a bit off actually turned out to be the best one. It sent him over the edge and he screwed his eyes shut and bit into his fist to keep quiet still. He could feel the various ropes of semen coat his torso and he was left feeling relaxed and sated.

Now that his mind was clear of the haze it had been in, he could hear breathing outside the door. Footsteps started to walk away and Castiel got up, poking his head out of the door. 

"I can hear your breathing, Dean."

 

Dean's POV

Dean woke up to a dry mouth and throat. He tried to swallow and muster up some saliva so he wouldn't have to get out of bed. He would have no such luck so he swung his legs over the bed and touched them down. He yawned before getting to his feet and walking out into the hallway, hand absently scratching at his stomach. He walks to the kitchen, eyes half closed and probably half asleep as well, and gets a water bottle from the fridge. He opened it up and downs about half the bottle before closing it and putting it back in the fridge. Sam always bitched about putting mostly empty bottles back in the fridge but it never registered with Dean, at least not to the point where he did something about it. 

Now that his tongue wasn't sticking to the roof of his mouth and his throat didn't feel scratchy, he made his way back to his room. The walk back was spent more awake, probably thanks to the water. He was passing Cas' room when he heard noises inside. Curious, he put his ear to the door so he could hear them better. His eyes widened when he heard grunts and moans and shallow breathing. Was he--? No, he couldn't be. Castiel was a friggin angel, he didn't jerk off. Still, those sounds were pointing in that same direction. He gulped and looked down, seeing that he was now half hard in is pajama pants.

"Son of a bitch...." muttered Dean, stepping back and starting to go back to his room.

He froze, though, when he heard the door open. His heart damn near stopped when he heard Castiel say that he'd heard him outside of his door. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to Honorine Bertin(AKA Amywings) for giving me the prompt that inspired this one shot.


	3. Don't Photograph The Artwork

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel takes a trip to an art museum and meets a very handsome guard.

Castiel was at the end of a stressful week at work. His work as a detective often drained him and left his nerves fried. There were a lot of things he saw on the job, most he wished he could unsee. His one light at the end of his week long tunnel, though, is that he would always go to the art museum on Sunday. It was usually less crowded then, most people off to church or doing weekend chores. There were others like him that came at that time but they all spaced out and kept to themselves. He'd also stop by the cafe there and get a cup of coffee and a small snack and generally enjoy the day there. It was always enjoyable and let him forget about the horrible things he saw on a day to day basis for a few hours at least.

Currently, he was looking over the religious art. It always caught his attention more because of all the colors and vividness of everything. He was a devout Christian man but was also a lot more open minded than most. He believed that God loved everyone and that something as small as sexuality wouldn't change that. The painting in front of him was huge and was of an angel and it just all looked divine. He was always tempted to touch the paintings but knew he'd most likely be escorted out of the museum if he even tried to.

His phone beeped and took him out of the trance he was in from looking at the painting. Sighing, he dug his phone out of his trenchcoat pocket and unlocked it. It was a text from his mother requesting a picture of him. Castiel rarely took pictures of himself as he wasn't rather fond of that form of memory keeping. He would always make this awkward smile and it would just be a big mess in his opinion. His mother, however, would say that the faces he made in photos were 'cute.' To him, there was nothing cute about looking like you're about to have an anxiety attack being immortalized.

Shaking his head, he got to the camera on his phone and aimed it at his face to take a photo. Hopefully this would get her to shut up about getting more photos about him. Still, whenever she wasn't asking about photos, she was nagging him about finding a wife and settling down with kids. The fact that he was 35 and single while his siblings all had families did make him stick out a bit at family gatherings. He kept telling her, though, that he was content with his life alone and that if he met someone, so be it.

His thumb tapped down on the camera button and the flash came out and the picture was taken. Quickly, he sent it to her before he could get too good a look at it and reconsider the whole thing. While in the process of putting his phone back in his coat, he saw one of the security guards walking towards him.

"Please don't photograph the artwork, sir." said the guard, a mischievous twinkle in his green eyes.

"Um...I wasn't. I was just taking a photograph of myself." said Castiel, his eyes squinting the way they did when he was confused.

"I know." said the guard, giving him a wink before just strolling away.

Castiel was left there with a blush covering his cheeks as he pulled his coat closer and shuffled away to another part of the museum.


	4. Personal Space

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel doesn't quite understand boundaries again.

Dean was taking a nice hot shower after a bloody hunt. They'd just gotten back to the bunker and Sam was probably doing the same at his room. Currently, the water was still running a mixture of red and brown down the drain. Most of the blood was from the witch he gutted and he really wanted to get that off of him. Fucking witches and spewing their bodily fluids everywhere. After a while, though, the water ran clear and Dean scrubbed everything out of his skin, being mindful of the various cuts and scrapes he had. Still, he'd had much worse so the slight sting he got when running the soapy wash cloth over them was nothing.

He shut the water off and stepped out of the shower onto the towel he had laid out. The bathroom had a small layer of steam running through it, a small trail escaping through the crack he'd left in the door. Grabbing the towel from the rack on the wall, he scrubbed down his body, trying to get as much water off of him as he could. His hair laid limply on his head, falling slightly onto his forehead. Abandoning the towel on the floor, he went to the sink and went about brushing his teeth. He was planning on sleeping for longer than his usual four hours after this hunt. His whole body ached and he needed rest.

He spit the mixture of toothpaste and saliva into the sink and washed his mouth out and dried his face off. His toothbrush got dropped in the little cup he had off to the side and, not thinking anything about it, he walking out of the bathroom naked. After all, the door to his room was closed and no one was in there. He went to his chest of drawers and pulled out boxers, pajama pants, and a t-shirt and pulled these on slowly because of his aching muscles. When he turned around to face his bed, he saw a familiar trenchcoated man sitting there, just looking at him.

"Uh...how long you been there?" asked Dean, his heart almost stopping.

"I was waiting for you to get out of the shower and thought it rude to interrupt you while you were getting dressed." said Castiel, tilting his head to the side slightly, obviously not understanding why this was a problem.

"Cas...you don't watch people as they get dressed. It's creepy." said Dean, looking away and trying not to let the blush he felt starting get too far up his face.

"Why? Humans started out naked. There is nothing shameful about the human body." said Castiel, standing up and taking a step closer to Dean.

"It's not about shame. It's about privacy." said Dean, voice faltering slightly. "What did you need anyways?"

"Nothing really. I just wanted to check in." said Castiel, taking another step towards Dean.

"Next time, a little warning would be good." said Dean, shaking his head and walking over to his bed.

"Okay, I will keep that in mind." said Castiel, looking down with a thoughtful expression on his face.


	5. Fight Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deans way of flirting can be a bit unorthodox.

Dean was in the hospital and had been for a few days. He was hacking up a lung most of the time and blowing copious amounts of snot from his nose when he wasn't. The fact that his eyes were bloodshot and he basically looked like an animated corpse right now wasn't too helpful either. He'd been told it was just pneumonia and that after they gave him the proper medication and it had time to work, he'd be fine. There was no time stamp on that, though, and he was alone in the room most of the time with the t.v. After all, his parents had work, Sam was off at college still, and basically everyone else he knew had lives that needed to continue.

Currently, though, he was feeling a little better. It wouldn't last long, though, so he was going to do something before it passed and he was back to hacking. During his time here, he'd been hoarding pillows and finally had enough for a pillow fort. So, here he was, on his hospital bed with a bunch of pillows surrounding him and his head sticking out. When he heard footsteps, he turned his head and saw his nurse walking in, most likely to check on him again.

"Hey, fight me!" said Dean, voice partially muffled by the pillows surrounding him.

The nurse whose name was Castiel, Dean just said Cas most of the time, looked at him with an amused expression on his face. The nurse in question was younger and very handsome in Dean's opinion. He always had a 5 o'clock shadow on his face, his hair sat unruly on his head, and he also had bright blue eyes. He seemed to be probably two inches shorter than Dean and also had a very deep voice. The voice had surprised Dean the first time he talked and he'd actually asked the guy if he was also down with something and that was why he sounded like he'd swallowed a box of rocks. The answer, of course, had been no and he'd been told that was just the mans normal speaking voice.

Castiel shook his head with a smile on his face and moved some of the pillows out of the way so he could get Dean's vitals.

"Maybe later." he said, a slight chuckle at the end of it.

Dean gave him a playful wink before nestling into his pillows again and watching what was on t.v. While he didn't particularly care for the show, he'd have to mess up his pillow fort to get the remote so he was more content to just sit here buried in the pillows instead.

The next day, around morning, Dean was already up and waiting for when Castiel would come in and get his morning vitals. Once he saw the unruly shock of hair, he sat up more, prepared to go 'fight me' with his fists up. Instead, he ended up going into a coughing fit that left him doubled over and having a hard time breathing. He could feel the nurses hand on his back, rubbing and telling him how to relax so that the fit wouldn't last as long. When he was finally able to breathe normally, he sat back a bit dejectedly.

"I won't fight you because I know you'd win." said Cas, smiling a bit and getting his medication ready for Dean to take.

This went on for about a week and finding ways to make Cas laugh became Dean's past time. When he was set to leave, he was standing in his room, now with his normal clothes on and a foot propped up on a chair so he could tie his shoe. When he straightened up, he saw Cas in front of him holding a coffee. Dean said thank you before noticing something on it. There was a number and 'fight me?' was written right next to it.


	6. What a Trench Coat Can Do pt. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trench coat is a good cover for a hurt Dean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got these prompts from a Facebook group called Destiel Forever.

The Time The Trench Coat Helped A Wounded Man

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Dean had been hurt badly by the Wendigo they'd been hunting. It had gotten the jump on him and had strung him up in the cave where it hid out. His wrists had cuts from the chains and his body was covered in multiple injuries. Blood was dried over his face, his hair matted down with it. There was also bites into his torso and neck, claw marks showing where the holes in his shirt were. This one had been clever, more so than most of them. Most of all, though, it was strong and fast and had caught him off guard. He'd told Sam he would do this hunt alone, that he could handle a simple Wendigo case. Now, because of that, he was most likely going to die by being monster chow. What an anti-climactic end to his life.

He could hear the creatures footsteps coming closer. It was probably here to feed again. It had been feeding on him hard and fast, he'd probably be dead before the night was over. He squeezed his eyes shut as the creature came closer and clamped down on his neck, feeding more off of him. His screams rang out through the cave, not that anyone could hear him. He was alone with the monster and would be until he died. When he died, he honestly did not know where the reaper would take him. He'd certainly done enough to end up in hell again and if he went to heaven, the angels might want to get a hold of his soul and give him their own punishment.

Darkness was starting to close in on him, the monster most likely preparing to finish him off. That was until there was a blinding light behind his eyes and he heard the monster roar in pain. When it had dulled a bit, he opened his eyes and saw that the monster in question was now burning quickly into a pile of ash. Blinking a bit, he cleared his vision some and tried to find his savior. Standing in front of him was Castiel, still wearing the stupid trench coat he seemed to be unable to take off even though it now just looked creepy without his suit to go with it. His hands were released from the chains and he collapsed to the ground, unable to support his own weight.

Without saying a word, Castiel bent down and hauled Dean up, supporting him and slowly navigating his way out of the cave system. Dean was barely conscious for most of this, faintly aware of his feet dragging against the stone and how it hurt to have Castiel nearly carrying him like this but not having the strength to protest it. When they were outside the caves, he could see the forest around them illuminated by the moon and the stars above. The walk, or rather drag, back to the edge of the forest took a long time and Dean being dead weight certainly wasn't making it easier. Distantly, he wondered why Sam wasn't here but then remembered he had his own case to deal and was busy, probably the one who sent Cas to find Dean.

When they got to the edge of the forest, Dean saw the tan continental sitting there. Never before had Dean been so happy to see that monstrosity on wheels. The door to it was pulled open and Dean let himself be laid out on the backseat. His body ached all over but it was a relief to be lying down. His eyes closed, ready to just let himself fall asleep when he felt something settle over him. Looking down, he saw that Cas had laid the trench coat down over him as a sort of blanket. It still held the warmth of Cas' body heat and actually felt good right now. Maybe the coat wasn't so bad after all.

 


	7. What a Trench Coat Can Do pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's journey with the trench coat after Castiel dies in the lake.

It had been a month since the Leviathan were released into the water supply. A month since Dean had watched Castiel's body wade into that lake before dissolving. A month since the only thing he had left of his friend was a trench coat. It had floated to the edge of the water and he'd scooped it up, wanting to at least have one physical thing to remember him by. There were no pictures he could look at, he only had his memories and now this coat to remind him of Castiel.

For the fist week or so, he just shut everyone out, not wanting to interact with Sam or Bobby. Instead, he threw himself into trying to track down where the Leviathan were heading. They destroyed Cas so he would destroy them. Somehow, some way, he would destroy them and they would rue the day they screwed Dean Winchester over like this. That was the best cover he had for the emotions that wanted to come spilling out in the middle of the night. Still, like he did with everything, he pushed them down, stomped on them, and locked them away to never be looked at again.

The trench coat found a home in the impalas trunk where it stayed until the Leviathan got Sam and Dean on the FBI's most wanted list again and they had to store her. Then, it moved with them from crappy car to crappy car. They could only travel with what they absolutely needed at this time and the trench coat made that list every single time. Sam never said a word about it, not questioning why this folded up and stained coat needed to go with them through every car change they had. It just went without saying that it was one of their essentials.

It had taken a long time before Dean could do more than glance at the coat and touch it longer than was needed to transfer it to its next home. The coat was a painful reminder of what he lost but also a reminder of one of the reasons he needed to keep going. He couldn't just roll over and die, no matter how much he wanted to. It would be the easiest thing to do now but that wasn't even an option. That coat always reminded him that he had more than just himself and Sam to redeem here. Even though Cas had fucked up royally, he was going to redeem his memory too.

Dean was sitting back against the concrete wall of the abandoned building they'd holed up in. Bobby had just been shot and killed by Dick Roman and Dean didn't know what to do. Whenever he had a problem, he went to Bobby to figure it out. Bobby had been his surrogate father and had done more for him than his own dad ever could. Now, though, he was gone and Dean was feeling lost. Tears were spilling down his cheeks but no sound was leaving him. The darkness of the corner he was sitting in left a shadow over his face so the look of pure pain on it was unable to be seen.

His arms were clutching the trench coat like he needed it to survive. Some of his tears had dripped down onto the tan fabric and made little dots along the collar and shoulder. He brought the trench coat up a bit and buried his face in it, sniffing it in hopes of still being able to smell Cas. All he was able to smell, though, was how dirty it was and it made him cry even more. It was just another reminder that the person he'd been closest to that hadn't been family was really gone and not coming back any time soon.

A few weeks had passed since Bobby's death and he was now searching for someone to save Sam. His brother had broken and was now in a mental hospital. He was dying and Dean didn't know what to do. At this point, he was grasping at straws to find something that would help. He'd almost exhausted all of Bobby's contacts looking for something that could help Sam. It wasn't until he got a call back that things seemed to be looking up for him just a little bit. A healer named Emanuel was who he was told to find so he did.

When he showed up at the house, the last thing he'd been expecting to see was the person he'd been grieving over for the better part of the year. It was a punch to the throat, though, when there was absolutely no recognition there. Castiel, who was now going by Emanuel, looked at him like he would a client and it was very impersonal. If he'd been feeling bad before, this was worse than he could ever imagine. The day goes by in a blur of killing demons and then teaming up with one before making the trip to the hospital where Sam was.

He'd witnessed the amnesia stricken Cas have a near meltdown before going and killing the demons that had lined the entrance to the hospital. He tore through them and it would be easy to get inside now and get to Sam. Only Cas wasn't walking towards the hospital. No, he was walking away from it and up the hill and to the car, like he was going to leave. Not willing to give up now, not when he was so close, he ran after him and got his attention. An inevitable argument ensued and it ended when Dean said that he'd always known Cas would come back to him.

This left the angel dumbstruck and gave Dean time to open the trunk and pull out the coat he'd holding onto for so long and give it back to its rightful owner. Despite the chaotic situation, his nerves were eased ever so slightly by seeing Castiel back in his coat and ready to fight again.


	8. How Angels Hug

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angels and humans hug very differently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this is interrupting my five part trench coat story bit but I got inspired so fuck it.

Angels and humans share many of the same sentiments, just not in the same way. For example, while both humans and angels kiss, angels do this gently putting their heads together and connecting their grace for a short amount of time. The longer the connection, the longer the kiss. Multiple connections are basically the angelic equivalent of making out. Another things humans and angels share, in a different way, is holding hands. Since angels are celestial wavelengths, they don't actually have hands per say. What happens is that they intertwine their grace together and that's their version of holding hands.

The gesture humans and angels have that's almost the same on both sides is hugging. Both species have hugs and the basic idea of holding the other person close for a period of time and keeping their hold a bit tight. The difference, though, is that while humans hug by wrapping their arms around each other, angels hug by wrapping their wings around each other. Their feathers rest right against each other and it is a very intimate gesture and not usually done unless the two angels are very close.

To Castiel, it's astounding how easily humans give out hugs. They do it so easily most times and others they even do it forced. They do it to show love, vulnerability, friendship, and a wide array of other emotions. For the longest time, this has him puzzled and with a vague sense that he's intruding simply by witnessing it. In heaven, for his kind, hugs were private and intimate gestures that were only done with those you were closest to. Here, they were common place and even shallow.

The first human hug he gets is from Bobby Singer. After he is shaken out of his surprise, he reaches his wings around the man as is custom for angels. His arms hang limply by his side and it isn't until Bobby reminds him that it's a hug that Castiel loosely puts his arms around him. This new gesture felt awkward but it was what humans did so he would try his best to conform to it.

His next memorable hug came in Purgatory. He'd been on the run from Leviathan for a while, trying to keep them thinking he was worth the effort more so than Dean. A few minutes before it happened, he'd been washing his face off at a stream and squatted down, taking a short rest. He hears Dean calling out his name but that isn't unusual. He'd been hearing prayers from Dean every night, prayers asking for him to come back to Dean so they could get out together. Even with the carvings on Dean's ribs it would be very easy for him to follow the trail of longing. It was strong and left a clear path but he didn't plan on going down it.

It wasn't until he heard footsteps that he realized he wasn't simply hearing Dean's voice from inside his head. He was hearing it because Dean was close to him. Slowly, he rose to his feet and turned, seeing Dean walking over to him with a big smile on his face. The hunter was dirty and had cuts on his face but his eyes were bright and his smile wide. It hurt Castiel knowing that he would have to crush that happiness soon to say that he couldn't go with him, that he was going to stay here.

Before any words could get out of his mouth, though, Dean was pulling him into a tight hug. Out of habit, he wrapped his wings around Dean just as tightly and enjoyed how good it felt to have Dean close to him again. When the hug was over, he took his wings from around Dean and tucked them neatly behind his back like they had been. Neat was probably an exaggeration given that they were dirty and unkempt because he hadn't had the time to groom them since they landed in Purgatory.

"I'm here, Cas. We're going home." said Dean, holding his arms out with a look of hopefulness on his face.

Castiel's wings reached out again for a one sided hug and wrapped themselves around Dean. It didn't matter that Dean couldn't see them or feel them. They were there and he was hugging Dean in his own way.


	9. How to Deal With Spiders

Castiel had an extreme phobia of spiders. It was a rather common phobia as he had seen numerous other people get scared of them. For him, though, it crossed the line of just being grossed out. If a spider crossed his path, he would freeze up before running from the room. Then, he wouldn't enter the room until someone else came in and killed the spider. There had been numerous times when his roommate, Gabriel, had come back from a night of partying to find Castiel asleep in the hallway because a spider was in the room. While his friend made fun of Castiel for the fear a lot, he would always dutifully go inside the room and kill it before letting Castiel know it was safe to return.

This was another time when Gabriel was out of the room, at classes this time. For Castiel, this was one of the days he didn't have anything going on. On these days, he normally stayed in his room and studied, read, or watched Netflix on his laptop. He was halfway through a particularly good book when he saw something crawling out of the corner of his eye. He glanced of quickly before looking back at his book. It took a few seconds to fully process what he saw and when he did, he was falling out of his bed tangled in blankets trying to get away. After a while of struggling, he just decided to stand up and make a run for it.

It took a bit of maneuvering to get the door open but it happened and he burst into the hallway. If it had just been a little spider, he would have been content to wait out here until Gabe came back. This one, however, was anything but little. It had to be almost the size of his hand and it was hairy and overall just looked like it had crawled out of the depths of hell. Looking around, he saw one of the people who lived down the hall from him. The guys name was Dean Winchester and they'd talked a few times in passing but had never really had a true conversation. 

With a panicked look on his face, Castiel basically hopped over to Dean and blocked his path in the hallway. Dean's first reaction was to look annoyed before he registered the look on the other guys face. Next, Dean was putting a hand on Castiel's shoulder to steady him and asking what was wrong, also telling him to take deep breaths so he didn't start hyperventilating. There was clear concern on the other guys face and it calmed Castiel down a little at seeing that.

"There is a huge spider in my room. It is the size of my hand. I need you to kill it." said Castiel, face deadly serious.

Dean stood there and paused for a second before nodding.

"Okay, let's get you untangled first, though." said Dean, turning Castiel around and starting to work at the knot he had worked himself into with his frenzy to get out of the room.

After a few minutes, the blankets fell away and Castiel was able to move freely again. With the use of his arms restored, Castiel grabbed Dean's arm and pulled him towards his room and opened the door. The spider in question was now settled on the floor, seeming quite content to stay there. If spiders could make expressions on their faces, Castiel was completely sure this one would look incredibly smug at having driven a 21 year old man out of his room in fear.

Dean stood there for a second just staring at it. He'd forgotten for a moment when Castiel had asked him to kill the spider that _he_ had a fear of spiders. This was mostly due to the big blue eyes looking at him with fear in them and also hope that Dean would be his hero. It didn't help that the guy was also very attractive. So, Dean not wanting to look like a wimp in front of the very cute and very scared guy, he found a shoe and went to kill the spider.

What he didn't expect was for the spider to start crawling up his leg. Terrified, Dean let out probably the highest pitch scream he had done in his life and furiously hit his leg with the shoes. By the time he was done, the spiders guts were strewn all over his pant leg and there was no way it could still be alive. Once he calmed down enough, he turned to Castiel who had an expression that was somewhere between relief and wanting to burst out laughing.

"We never speak of this again." said Dean, dropping the shoe and trying to look tough.

Castiel got his expression back to his usual deadpan one and nodded to Dean.

"Right, it never happened." said Castiel, fighting the urge to smile widely.


	10. The Haunted Maze and a Chainsaw

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean works in a haunted corn maze for a Halloween festival. Castiel gets dragged along by his brothers even though he really hates that sort of thing and gets scared easily.

Castiel had been very reluctant to go into the haunted corn maze attraction at the festival. He was fine with the festival itself, most of it was rather humorous, but the maze had him shaking with slight anxiety. He got scared easily. He couldn't even watch horror movies without having terrible nightmares afterwards. So, the thought of going into the dark maze to be scared had him terrified. In his mind, he kept telling himself it was all fake. All he'd be seeing were actors paid to scare people. He could get through something that was obviously fake for however long it lasted and then get back to the less scary parts of the festival.

As he entered the maze, he was cursing Gabriel the entire way. Halfway inside, his brother apparently thought it would be funny to ditch and leave him alone in the maze. A cold sweat broke out across his skin as he looked around wildly for someone. He wasn't a short man, nearly 6 feet tall. The corn, however, must have been ten feet tall and that was only a guess. His heart was hammering away under his chest and he was jumping at every little noise he heard. He kept having to tell himself that he didn't need to be scared by the corn brushing up against him as he walked, trying to find his way out.

After a while, he decided it was best to just sit down and wait for someone to find him. They could lead him out and he could be done with this nightmare of an attraction. So, shaking slightly, he sat down and hugged his knees to his body. He could feel the slightly damp earth rubbing against his jeans, seeping through the fabric a bit but that was the least of his concerns at the moment. He closed his eyes and stayed still, trying to control his breathing so he didn't go into a full blown panic attack.

Some time passed before he became aware of footsteps coming his way. The straw on the ground was crackling under their footsteps and he craned his neck, trying to see who was coming. What he saw, though, had a squeak coming out of his mouth. There was a figure limping towards him, covered in blood with a hockey mask on and a chainsaw that was being revved up and raised in a threatening manner. Logically, his head was screaming at him to get up off his ass and run away. His body, though, didn't want to cooperate and so, he was stuck on the ground and paralyzed with fear.

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Dean enjoyed his job at the haunted corn maze. It was seasonal work, good for some extra money while October lasted. The only pain with it was having to sit in a chair for close to an hour while the special effects makeup was put on him. He never knew how long it took to get that stuff on but the end result was pretty damn realistic. Once everything was on him, he looked like he came straight out of a horror movie and was the new Jason. The hockey mask was pretty cool as well, blood stained and slightly tattered but, at times, it was stifling and he had to find a dark corner of the maze to take it off and let his face air out a bit.

There was a slight breeze blowing through the corn, making it sway from side to side and creating a slight rustling noise. His footsteps crunched against the stray that had been placed here for an added effect. He'd rev up the chainsaw every so often and go running towards some unfortunate occupant of the maze. This would go on until they'd run far enough and he would let them think they'd lost him. He'd even managed to scare the guys who entered with their chests puffed out, so sure that this little maze would have absolutely no effect on them.

Looking through the eye holes, he spotted a guy huddled in a dark corner of the maze. He saw that sometimes, people taking a small break from it before getting up and continuing on. Stalking over, he revved the chainsaw and raised it up, putting on the act of the deranged psychopathic killer. He was about ten feet away from the guy when he noticed something, though. Instead of the usual scared looks he saw, this guy seemed to be paralyzed with fear. There was a big difference, he'd learned, between being scared but wanting to continue and people that were scared so hard they would go into a panic attack. This guy was definitely at that level.

So, not wanting to traumatize him any more than he already had, Dean turned the chainsaw off and set it down. Then, he took the mask off and slowly approached the guy, a look of concern on his face.

"Hey, man, it's okay. Here, let me give you a hand and lead you out of here." he said, reaching a hand out that was covered in a tattered glove as part of his costume.

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Castiel squeezed his eyes shut, a few tears slipping past and rolling down his face. His whole body was now trembling and his heart was hammering away under his chest. Suddenly, though, the chainsaw stopped and he heard a slight thump as it was dropped to the ground. Still, he didn't dare opening his eyes and looking up at the figure. His mind was still in panic mode, all logic having fled from it as soon as he'd seen the person limping towards him with the running, bloody chainsaw.

What broke though his fear clouded mind, though, was the voice of a man. It sounded soft and caring. A few minutes passed before he had the courage to even look up. He was sure his eyes were red and bloodshot now from crying. The mask had been taken off and he was looking at a man around his age who was holding a hand out to him. In the dark light of night, he couldn't see his features that well but it was clear to see that the man was concerned. So, after staring at the hand for a while, he slowly reached out and took it.

The walk out of the maze was silent, the man holding his hockey mask and chainsaw in one hand while holding Castiel's hand in the other. It took a rather long time to get out, Castiel apparently having gone really far off the path. Eventually, though, they made it out to the bright lights and happy sounds of the festival. The cool air was a welcome change from the smothering feeling of being surrounded by the corn. As he was being led to the beginning of the maze again, he heard his brothers voice and watched as he came running towards him.

All traces of the joking demeanor Gabriel usually had were gone, replaced by concern. He looked crumpled and there was a very high air of regret about him.

"Hey, Cas, I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking. I won't make you do that again, promise." said Gabriel, looking down at his shoes.

Castiel nodding silently to his brother, just relieved to be out of the maze and back around people. It dawned on him after a bit that he was still holding hands with the man who'd led him out. The other man, whose name he still didn't know, didn't loosen his grip on Castiel's hand at all. It felt soothing and eased his panicked mind to have someone to hold onto. The hold was loose but grounding all the same. He was also aware of a thumb stroking over his knuckles in a circular pattern.

The sound of a whistle from Gabriel broke him out of the trance that had him staring at the other mans hand. His gaze snapped from the hand covering his own and over to his brother. The impish smile his brother usually wore was firmly back on his face. He gave Castiel a wink before sauntering off, likely to find some unfortunate person to chat up. He loved his brother but he was obnoxious at the best of times.

"Hey, I'm Dean by the way." said the man, stepping slightly closer to Castiel so their arms weren't stretched so far apart.

"Castiel." said Castiel, looking down at the ground which looked so much more interesting at the moment.

"Come on, I'll get you a candy apple." said Dean, giving Castiel's hand a soft squeeze before leading him back to the main part of the festival.

The cheesy decorations came in view again, other people walking around in costumes and game vendors throwing pitches to get people to play. He'd played those games before, the game vendors seeming to hate him since he had very good aim for the games that required you to throw something at a specific target. The smell of food wafted over to him as he was led to a stand that had candy apples sticking out of a little platform. Some of them had steam rising from them, indicating just how fresh they were.

Looking over, he saw Dean fish his wallet from his pants and pay the man for two candy apples, doing the whole thing without ever letting go of Castiel's hand. After they had their treat, they walked around a bit, Dean groaning in frustration when the caramel of the apple stuck to his makeup and making him have to peel it off. The new blood stains on the apple didn't deter him any, though, and he went right back to eating, seemingly unaware of the caramel currently coating his face.

This caused Castiel to get a fond smile on his face as he watched the other man eat, he himself nibbling on the apple at a much slower pace. He didn't have dessert too often and this apple was really sweet, even though it tasted amazing. He planned on taking his time with it, not wanting to give himself a stomach ache. At this point he wanted to stay at the festival as long as it was open for the night so he could spend more time with the guy who'd rescued him from the corn field.

Once Dean was done with his apple, he tossed it into a nearby trashcan and turned to Castiel, a smile on his face.

"So, are you scared of rides too or just scary men in hockey masks with chainsaws?" he asked, the light causing his green eyes to shine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This short story was inspired by http://chubdean.tumblr.com/post/63795167781 . I saw her prompt while scrolling through my dash and really wanted to write it.


	11. Just Breathe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a little drabble I wrote based off the song Breathe by Ana Nalick. I may or may not turn this into a longer fic. I don't know. Also, I recommend listening to the song first before reading this.

_2 AM and she calls me 'cause I'm still awake,_

  
_"Can you help me unravel my latest mistake?,_

  
_I don't love him. Winter just wasn't my season"_

 

Castiel was laying back in bed, staring up at his ceiling. Sleeping wasn't something he'd had much luck with for a while, not that anyone could really blame him. Most nights, the only reason he got sleep was because his body finally gave into exhaustion. Simple as that. The nightmares would start after that, though. He couldn't remember the last time he'd gotten a decent nights sleep or was able to go a night without waking up in a cold sweat and freaking out. It had been nearly five years since it happened but the scars and trauma of it were still very much at the surface for him.

His wedding ring still rested on his left hand, him not having the heart to remove it, knowing he would be looking at a white imprint against his otherwise tan skin. It would only be a more jarring reminder that she was gone and never coming back. She'd been the love of his life, they'd known each other since high school, and just like that, she was gone. Every night, the scene played out in his head and every time he would stare helplessly as he was unable to do anything to help.

It had been an icy winter night and they were driving back from her parents house. They had insisted on them staying the night but he had said it would be fine, that they'd be careful and make it home okay. He'd talked about how the cat wouldn't know what to do with himself with a night alone and that he also wanted to sleep in his own bed. Another thing was that he also wanted to enjoy the last little bit of the night with Sharon. No matter how much time they spent together, he still wanted more.

He'd been the driver that night even though Sharon had asked to drive, saying she was better at driving in bad weather. Again, he'd insisted on driving, saying she should just relax on the drive back home. It would take them nearly half an hour to make it, probably more with the ice on the road slowing them down. He'd known about the ice but he hadn't looked closely enough for it. While he'd been told it had been black ice, that no one could have seen it, he still blamed himself for what happened. If he had been more careful or had just stayed at his in laws house for the night, she would still be alive.

The loss of control of the wheels had been sudden and no amount of braking had helped. They'd spun out and the car ended up wrapping itself around a tree. He'd been in a daze when his eyes had opened, distantly aware of something thick and warm running down the side of his face. Glass had been dug into a lot of his skin and he felt like he'd been forced into an unnatural position. His eyes had flickered over to the side, looking for Sharon. He'd tried to say her name but found his jaw unable to work. He'd later been made aware that his jaw had been broken in the crash.

Even through the daze he was in, he could see that her neck was bent unnaturally and that she was too still. There were no groans of pain coming from her, there was only silence. That silence had been louder than anything he'd ever heard before, though, and it had hurt him. He didn't want to believe it, didn't want to admit that it was true, but he knew she was dead. He'd insisted on driving that night and she was dead because of him. His consciousness hadn't lasted that much longer, the sound of sirens going through his head as he faded out. 

When he'd woken up again, the first thing he registered was a dull, throbbing pain. It radiated through him and it seemed to take an extreme amount of effort just to open his eyes. The room was dim, the overhead light seeming to just barely be on. His mind was in a fog and he couldn't seem to string together one coherent thought. He would start to make one and then it would stop halfway through and just fade away.

His jaw ached and he tried to stretch it out but found he couldn't move it. This sent panic flooding through him and his eyes widened and he strained, trying his best to open his mouth and just scream. Hands had been put on him then, holding him down and telling him to stop. At the time, he couldn't really retain much, his mind blind with panic at not being able to control one part of his body. Then, a wave of calm rushed over him and he laid back on the bed, eyes relaxing. Looking back, he was sure they'd given him morphine but he hadn't thought to ask while he was there.

After he was calm and pliant, the doctor, at least he thought the person was a doctor, began explaining what had happened. That he'd been in a car crash and broken a lot of bones, including his jaw which was now wired shut until it could heal. He was told he'd need a lot of physical therapy and that it would be a long road to recovery for him. He was then told that his wife hadn't survived the crash. That had him freezing and he could swear he felt his heart literally break in that moment. Tears had started running down his face and he just cried, wanting to turn in on himself but being unable to because of how they had him set up.

Today he still had a lot of physical reminders of what had happened. There were various surgical scars on his body as well as the fact that his knees were bad now. He was 35 and had the knees of someone twice his age. At times he would have to use a cane but he tried his best to avoid it, sometimes going so far as to suffer through the pain just to prove he didn't need it. His jaw was also prone to aches and pains and he wore a mouth guard at night to stop him from grinding his teeth. The teeth grinding had started as a stress response and just ended up making his jaw hurt even more than it already did.

His nose was slightly crooked now and some of his fingers were oddly shaped. They all worked just fine, for now, but he knew he was destined for arthritis or something similar when he got older. These physical, day to day reminders never failed to make him want to cry.

So, here he was, laying back in bed and staring up at the ceiling until exhaustion took him over. Just as he could feel his eyes starting to droop, a shrill ring burst out and light shined from his phone. Groaning, he reached for it blindly and pressed talk. His voice was even more rough than usual when he answered, sure he sounded like he was half dead. Most days he felt that way.

"Castiel?" asked a scared female voice.

Sitting up, Castiel took the phone away from his hand and looked at the caller ID. It was from his sister, Anna, and she sounded terrified.

"Anna? What's wrong?" asked Castiel, now much more awake than he'd been a few seconds ago.

"Castiel, I need your help. Please, come get me." said Anna, her voice small, like she was trying to not be heard.

"I will. Where are you?" he asked, already getting out of bed and  moving to get his shoes. He honestly didn't care if he went out in pajama pants and a t-shirt, not when it was for something this important.

"I'm at the bust stop on 7th. Just come get me." said Anna and Castiel could tell she was crying.

"I'm leaving right now. Just stay right there." said Castiel before hanging up and grabbing his car keys, jogging to his car.

It was about five minutes later that he arrived at the bus stop. He unlocked his passenger side door when he saw his sister come running up to his car. After the door was closed, he took off again, not knowing if anyone would come running for Anna. He sped all the way to his home, pushing the limits on traffic laws as he went. When he was finally back and the garage door closed behind him, he helped Anna out of the car and inside. He could see she was cold, only a threadbare nightgown on and a pair of socks. Soon, they were settled on the couch, Anna wrapped in a blanket and hot cocoa in her hands. It would help warm her up and he knew how much Anna loved chocolate.

They sat in silence for a while before Anna told him what had happened. The talking went on for a long time and it seemed like only minutes passed before he could see the sun rising out of the corner of his eye. He got her dressed in some of Sharon's old clothes, him not having the heart to throw them out so they'd stayed in the dresser where they'd been before. After that, they got in his car again, the mood more somber than anything. The radio was turned off as he started to drive to the clinic.

_Yeah we walk through the doors, so accusing their eyes_

  
_Like they have any right at all to criticize,_

  
_Hypocrites. You're all here for the very same reason_

Castiel parked in front of the clinic and walked inside with his sister. It was a small clinic, not anything big or fancy. As they walked inside, the people already there turned to look at them. Their stares seemed so judgmental, like they knew exactly what was going on, exactly why they were there. A burst of anger took hold of him but he forced it down and signed in before taking a seat with his sister, holding her hand and keeping a neutral expression on his face.

_'Cause you can't jump the track, we're like cars on a cable_

  
_And life's like an hourglass, glued to the table_

  
_No one can find the rewind button, girl._

  
_So cradle your head in your hands_

  
_And breathe... just breathe,_

  
_Oh breathe, just breathe_

After it was all done, he sat in the car with her for a while, knowing she needed some time to process things. He didn't push her, didn't tell her they needed to hurry up because his boss was probably mad that he was missing work or that he was feeling very sleep deprived at the moment. None of that came out because he knew his sister needed the silence right now so she could stay in her head a little bit longer.

_May he turned 21 on the base at Fort Bliss_

  
_"Just a day" he said down to the flask in his fist,_

  
_"Ain't been sober, since maybe October of last year."_

Dean's 21st birthday, the one most people celebrated a little too much, went by without much fanfare. He was on a military base on deployment and he probably hadn't been fully sober since October of last year. October was when everything had come crashing down around him. His brother, Sam, who had been only 16 at the time, not even out of high school had died in October the year before. Sam had been on the fast track to college and a great career as a lawyer and had college offers piling up before him. Everything had been going amazingly until the girl who had single handedly destroyed it came into his little brothers life.

Her name was Ruby and she had long blond hair and a perpetual smirk on her face. She'd pulled Sam in like a moth to a flame, no effort required. Dean had seen that Ruby was bad news and had told his brother the same thing. Sam hadn't listened to him, though. He'd insisted that he could take care of himself and that he didn't need his big brothers help anymore. Dean had watched as Ruby destroyed his brother, introducing him to drugs. Sam's grades had plummeted, college offers dwindled away, and he'd lost his brother completely. He hadn't seen his brother for the six months before his death, not his brother that wasn't clouded by drugs.

Sam had died of an overdose on October 22nd, him having put too much into the needle. Dean had been the one to discover his body. He'd just gotten off work at the mechanics and came in, ready for a meal of last nights leftovers. He'd yelled out to Sam as usual, expecting to hear his brothers usual reply of 'hey Dean' before things went silent again. Even in Sam's drug addled state, he still replied when Dean called out for him. He had been protective of Sam ever since he was four and their house had burned down, his mother having passed away in it. He remembered her getting Sam and passing the baby to Dean, pushing him out of the way of a falling beam. He still could hear her yelling at him to take his brother and get out of the house.

Sam had grown up with Dean being overprotective and thought of it was normal. He'd never met their mom but when he found out how she'd died, he could understand why Dean acted the way he did. So, even fucked up, he would respond to Dean's call to him to let him know he was still there. When Dean didn't hear a response, his stomach had dropped. Sam always responded and if he wasn't going to be home, he would have told Dean when he was leaving, when he'd be back, and where he was going. 

Dropping everything, Dean had run up the stairs to his brothers room and tried the door knob. It was locked and he pounded his fist against it, calling out his brothers name, asking if he was in there. Panic had been clear in his voice, his eyes wide and he'd been slightly shaking. After hearing no response from inside the room, he rammed himself against the door until it broke and fell forward. Coughing, he waved away the dust cloud of wood shavings and stepped in, his work boots making imprints against the white wood. On the bed, he saw his brother unconscious with a syringe in his hand and a small plastic baggy by his head.

He'd made it over to the bed in two strides and lifted his brother up by his shoulders. He watched as Sam's head lolled to the side, far too limp even for him to be sleeping.

"Sam? Sammy?" said Dean, tears pricking his eyes and his voice cracking.

He'd laid his brother on the floor and put his ear to his chest, hoping to find a heart beat. He didn't hear anything but he knew CPR so there was still some hope in him. Getting his cellphone out of his pocket, he dialed 911 and put the phone between his cheek and shoulder before proceeding to pump Sam's chest. The wait for the ambulance seemed endless, the dispatcher trying to get him to stay calm and him cutting the conversation off every so often to breathe into his brothers mouth before starting compression's again. The police that arrived had to physically restrain Dean so that he wouldn't interfere with the paramedics. He'd watched Sam's limp body rolled into the ambulance before people hopped in, saying he possibly had a chance because of Dean's CPR.

That had lit a glimmer of hope in him and he'd driven to the hospital as fast as he could, one of the police officers giving him an escort with his cruiser. He'd waited in the ER, bouncing his leg and having his hands clasped tightly together the whole time. His Dad had showed up a little while after Dean did, looking crumpled. His heart had jumped when he'd seen a doctor walking towards him but his small glimmer of hope was extinguished once he saw the expression on the doctors face.

He'd lost it then, screaming and cursing and throwing things around. Security had to be called to restrain him until he could calm down enough to not be a danger to himself or others. The weeks following Sam's death had been a blur, a mess of vigils and a memorial at his school and the funeral. It had all sort of bled together in his mind, no two events able to be picked out clearly. The size of the funeral had bugged him but not because it was crowded. It bugged him because he saw people there who used to make fun of his brother and others who hadn't even known him but had this look of sorrow on their faces.

When he'd seen Ruby at the funeral, he'd yelled at her to get out, that she had no right being there. He'd yelled that she was the one that killed Sam because she introduced him to drugs, yelled that he was being buried at 16 because she was a selfish bitch. His dad had to come over and pull him away before he did something really bad like beat the shit out of her. That's what Dean had wanted to do, he'd wanted to beat the shit out of her, put her in the ground like she'd put his brother in it.

After the funeral, he'd known he needed to get out, that he couldn't be in that house or that town even. He'd enlisted in the military and ended up in the army. He'd worked through boot camp with a single minded determination. He'd put all his pain and anger into the program and had risen to the top of his rank. Shortly after boot camp, he'd been deployed and he went on back to back tours, not wanting a moment of rest. Rest meant time to think and thinking meant remembering the pain he was in.

This was the final deployment he'd been told he'd be able to do for about 6 months. He'd have to take a vacation after this, for his mental health they said. They didn't want what was seen out here to screw with him too much. If they only knew how screwed up in the head he already was.

That pattern went on for 14 years before he'd gotten an injury he couldn't bounce back from. He'd shattered his pelvis after he was hit with by some debris from an exploding tank. It had taken multiple surgeries and immense physical therapy before he could walk again. He couldn't exercise anymore, at least not strenuously. If he did, that would cause him pain. Going through metal detectors was a pain in the ass since he always set them off and then had to explain that his pelvis was filled with bolts and screws and metal plates.

The pain was ongoing and he had some pain killers he was on but he never abused them. He wasn't going to become addicted to drugs and fall down the same path that had taken Sammy.

  _Here in town you can tell he's been down for a while,_

  
_But, my God, it's so beautiful when the boy smiles,_

  
_Wanna hold him. Maybe I'll just sing about it._

After the injury, he'd known he'd be in the states permanently but he still couldn't get himself to go back to Lawrence. So, instead, he'd gone to Sioux Falls, North Dakota where a friend of the family named Bobby Singer lived. Bobby owned a scrap yard and also made a living repairing cars or fixing up ones he had on the lot and selling them back to people. He'd taken Dean in with open arms and given him a place to stay and a job so that he could earn some money for himself. Dean had been silent for the most part for the first few months and Bobby hadn't pushed him to talk. He'd been patient and waited him out, knowing Dean would talk when he was ready.

Speech had come back to him slowly, his conversations lasting longer and longer. It was almost October again, nearing the anniversary of Sam's death. Every year when this day pulled around, he'd shut himself in some room and drink until he passed out and then dealt with the hangover the next day. On the days leading up to that anniversary he would spend nights drinking at a bar or something close. This time around, he found himself at the Roadhouse sucking down whiskey shots until the owner, Ellen, came over and cut him off.

She was a gruff sort of woman, no nonsense and tough as nails. She'd asked what had him drinking to the point where he was sure to screw with his liver. Since he was incredibly drunk at that point, he'd told her. He'd spilled all that had happened from Sam's death right up to what had him living in Sioux Falls now. Throughout the conversation, she'd had him drink water, saying it would help him some. Once he said he was living at Bobby's for now, she said she'd drive him back there. She told him she was a good friend of Bobby's and that he must be important to him if Bobby was allowing him to live with him.

As the anniversary of Sam's death had loomed closer and closer, Bobby and Ellen had teamed up together to lift his spirits so he wouldn't spend the night passed out in his own vomit. He'd gotten a bacon cheeseburger and homemade apple pie, new music for the impala as well as things to keep her in shape. On the day in question, he'd been about to start drinking when Bobby had forced him out of the house and Ellen's daughter, Jo, had dragged him to the Roadhouse so they could make sure he stayed sober. Jo had kept him entertained and even managed to pull a smile or two out of him. The way her face had lit up whenever he'd let out one of his small smiles almost made him want to laugh.

_Cause you can't jump the track, we're like cars on a cable,_

  
_And life's like an hourglass, glued to the table._

  
_No one can find the rewind button, boys,_

  
_So cradle your head in your hands,_

  
_And breathe... just breathe,_

  
_Oh breathe, just breathe_

Castiel had to attend the funeral for another person he loved. He'd had to arrange it and make sure everything was cohesive. His mother was too much of a wreck to do it and his father spent all his time comforting his mother to be much help at all. For weeks, you couldn't be around her without her wailing about Anna or telling a story about her or her crying over old photo albums of pictures of his sister as a kid.

Anna had died from putting a single bullet in her head. All the events that had led up to the visit to the clinic had weighed on her, suffocated her, and finally killed her. He remembered the last time he spoke to her, an hour or so before she died. She'd called him to see how he was doing and how his day was going. He remembered thinking her voice sounded awfully calm for how bad her mental health had been lately. They'd talked, though, and laughed and she'd said she loved him at the end of it. He'd returned the sentiment and hung up the phone, a smile on his face as he thought that his sister was finally taking a turn in the right direction.

An hour or so later, he was made aware that his worst fear had come true. Anna had crumbled under everything and had killed herself. She'd put a gun in her mouth and blew the back of her head out. She'd done it in her room and the walls were splattered with blood and brain matter. At least, that's what he had been told. He hadn't seen the actual scene for himself, not that he wanted to. He probably couldn't look at it for more than a second without having to double over and vomit up the contents of his stomach and more.

After the funeral, he'd made some pretty rash decisions. He'd quit his job and sold his house and emptied his bank accounts to go on an extended road trip. He had no real direction, just knew he needed to go and be anywhere that wasn't the place all his pain seemed to be centered in. It was just entering December and he was somewhere in North Dakota, spending a night or two at the motel in town. It was a small town but not too small. There was a decent amount of people but not too much for it to be smothering.

After settling at the motel, he'd pulled a jacket, gloves, and a hat on before walking out. His hand were stuffed in his pockets as he walked, ignoring the stiffness in his knees that was brought on by the cold weather. Snow crunched under his feet and he kept on in an aimless direction, eventually settling on following a walking trail that was lit up by lights that appeared about every 20 feet or so. Some time passed before he came to a bridge that was over a rushing river. The water was moving fast, too fast for it to freeze over though it was certainly cold enough to.

Looking over the railing of the bridge, he stared down at the rushing water and wondered how quickly that could kill him. Suicide didn't seem like such a bad idea right now. His wife was dead and his sister was also dead. The two people he'd cared about most in the world were gone and he was left with no one. Sure, he'd loved his parents but they'd never been particularly close. He'd always looked up to his older sister even though their age difference was only about 2 years, not enough to make much of a difference as far as life experience went.

Without thinking about it much, he gripped the rail and stepped up on one of the planks running along the bridge that made it more sturdy. He swung his legs over, one by one and sat on the snow covered hand rail, some of it melting against his body heat. More time passed as he looked down at the water before he straightened up, gripping the rail with his hands still to keep himself steady. Just before he was about to let go and jump in, a voice called out to him, telling him to stop.

_There's a light at each end of this tunnel,_

  
_You shout 'cause you're just as far in as you'll ever be out_

  
_And these mistakes you've made, you'll just make them again_

  
_If you'd only try turning around._

Dean had decided to take a late night walk. He was restless, something that had developed ever since Ellen had gotten him to quit drinking. He was almost 2 months sober now. He'd been developing new coping skills and going to AA meetings, Ellen acting as his sponsor. He'd also started seeing a counselor, something Bobby and Ellen both chipped in to get him. The first few meetings he had with the woman, Dr. Braedon, he'd been thinking the whole thing was stupid. He was the type of person who laughed when anyone suggested therapy, saying it was a load of bull and not to waste your money on it.

Dr. Braedon had cracked through his macho facade and picked him apart before putting the pieces together again. Now, while he wouldn't openly admit it, he was a believer in therapy. It had taken quite a few sessions and him storming out on some of them before she'd started to make headway. Once she'd been able to get that first nudge in, there had been no stopping that woman. She gave him exercises to do every week. Whenever she gave him one, he'd roll his eyes and play it off but he always did them, even if some took multiple tries before he could pull through them completely.

The walk had started out normal enough, him bundled up and listening to rock music on what was considered an ancient ipod. The only reason he'd gotten it was so that he could listen to music while walking. A walkman wasn't ideal for that unless you enjoyed the CD skipping every time you put your foot on the ground too forcefully. Overall, it had been peaceful as he walked, seeing everything covered in white and his breath coming out in foggy puffs before him.

He was starting to cross the bridge that was over the rushing river when he saw a man who looked like he was about to jump. Eyes wide, he ripped his earbuds out and ran towards him, shouting for him to stop. The man paused and looked back at him, visibly startled. Dean had gotten to the man and pulled him over the bridge, them both ending up on their backs in the snow. His hips ached from the strain pulling him over had caused but he didn't regret it, not when this man had been about to commit suicide.

Turning his head to the side, he looked at the person he just saved and saw wide blue eyes staring back at him. There was a 5 o'clock shadow on his face and he had high cheekbones and messy brown hair peaking out from beneath his hat. There were slight bags under his eyes, telling of multiple nights without enough rest.

Not knowing what exactly to say, he laid there staring at him and huffing air in and out, his chest heaving slightly as he tried to get his bearings back.

_But you can't jump the track, we're like cars on a cable,_

  
_And life's like an hourglass, glued to the table_

  
_No one can find the rewind button now_

  
_Sing it if you understand._

Castiel stared a man came running full speed towards him. Before  he could really react, arms were being wrapped around his torso and he was pulling back over the railing. The man hauling him over seemed to stumble a bit and they both ended up on their backs in the snow. His eyes were wide as he stared up but didn't really see anything. He'd been prepared to jump, prepared to end it all and then that man had showed up out of nowhere.

A shift in the snow was heard and he turned his face towards it, seeing who his savior was. The man had sort of brownish blond hair and light stubble across his face. His eyes were a bright green and his face was dusted in freckles, his nose slightly crooked and his mouth looked like what you would normally only see in drawings.

So, for now at least, he was still alive and he didn't know whether to be happy or sad about that fact. Either way, he knew a conversation would be following this.

The other man ended up starting it.

"The fuck man?"

_And breathe, just breathe_

  
_woah breathe, just breathe,_

  
_Oh breathe, just breathe,_

  
_Oh breathe, just breathe_.


	12. Drunk in Boston

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean finds himself alone in his new city while everyone around him is celebrating the holidays. So, after drinking himself to fill the loneliness, he sends a letter to his old address and hopes it at least makes the new owner smile.

Dean Winchester was alone right as the holidays were coming up. Christmas was in a week and it looked like the North Pole had exploded all over the streets. The snows was everywhere, much more than what he was used to back in Kansas, and there was just so much noise. He kept asking himself why he had moved to such a noisy city. Then, he remembered. It was because he'd been offered a job at Boston University. He'd start out the spring semester helping to fill in the gaps for other professors and when the next school year started, he would have his own classes. He was to be taking over for another professor who was retiring.

So, here he was, during Christmas vacation. Sam was in California finishing up law school and living happily ever after with his new wife Jessica. His parents, of course, were back home in Lawrence, Kansas, them having no reason to move anywhere. Bobby, stubborn old bastard, was in North Dakota and living alone even though multiple people had offered to help him out in his house. As always, he refused, saying as long as he could walk he could take care of himself. Boston was a big city and he was all alone in it.

What did Dean Winchester do when he wanted to fill his loneliness? He headed over to a bar and drank. He figured he could drown his sorrows in whiskey and find a warm body to spend the night with. It would beat going to his new apartment. Boxes were littered around, most of them filling the garage and forcing him to park his prized 67' impala under the car port. He'd gotten most of his basic furniture set up such as his bed, couch, table, etc. Overall, it looked pretty bare and you couldn't tell if someone was moving out or moving in. He knew he'd need to get started on getting his crap out soon but, for the moment, he couldn't be bothered to really care too much about it.

The first glass of amber liquid was set down in front of him and he gave the bartender a nod. He was a big, burly man with a beard and a strong Louisiana accent. The name tag he had on read 'Benny' and he'd given Dean a knowing look, one that said he was sure he'd be bringing many more drinks his way before the night ended. For a while, Dean just sat there, sipping at the drink every so often. What finally broke his haze was seeing what seemed to be a pair of brothers celebrating something and having a good time. Remembering he was here to bury his feelings, not unearth them, he downed the glass in one gulp and ordered another. After about three shots of whiskey, it was clear the alcohol had hit him and he seemed visibly relaxed.

In fact, he was so relaxed that when a pretty woman with dark hair sat on the stool next to his he had no problem laying on the charm thick. The woman had tan skin and big brown eyes, her dark hair framing her face perfectly. It looked like she wasn't wearing makeup before he saw that her lashes were way too long to be natural. Her smile was warm and infectious, making his heart skip a beat and his emotions not mean so much to him.

They sat and talked for a while, casually getting to know each other. When it came to the part of asking what they did for a living, he learned that she worked as a Pediatrician. She seemed impressed when he told her he was an English professor, saying she liked a man that was well read. He told her that he had just moved to the city because of the job and a look of sympathy passed over her face. His brain went to a halt right when he saw that look. She was now pitying him because he knew no one in the city and was drinking heavily to forget the fact that he was spending the holidays alone.

Some more time and conversation passed and they exchanged numbers. After saying goodbye to her, he pulled his coat on again and walked outside. Some snow stuck to the stubble on his face and he kept an eye on the ground to watch for stray patches of ice. His footing was slightly unsteady but not nearly enough for someone to be able to immediately call him out as being drunk. He had a strong tolerance for alcohol, one he'd built up when he'd hit a rough patch as a teenager after his best friend, Charlie, had been hit by a car. He'd blamed himself heavily because they'd been chasing after each other, her shouting 'Can't catch me, bitch!' at the top of her lungs. He'd been crossing the street to get to her when a car came roaring down the street at probably twice the posted speed limit.

Dean had froze in the street, eyes wide as the car came hurtling towards him. Charlie had run out and pushed him just out of reach of the cars wheels. It had hit her full force and he remembered hearing the thump as the car moved over her like her body was a speed bump. He'd been sure she was dead, seeing her crumpled form lying on the pavement with blood pooling around her. He'd picked her up and carried her to the first house he could find, yelling for whoever was inside to call 911.

His friend had been in a medically induced coma afterwards, doctors saying that it would help her heal better. The first few days, Dean visited her and tried to keep a positive outlook on things. That quickly got harder, though, as days stretched into weeks which stretched into months. During that time, he'd learned that alcohol really numbed your pain. He'd been at his worst, almost ready to end himself because of his guilt, when she'd finally been strong enough to come out of the coma. When she'd seen the state he was in, how he was blaming himself for what was happening, he'd had a lot to answer for.

She'd whipped his ass into shape from her hospital bed and continued to do it when she out of there. She'd whipped his ass right till the last day of senior year and he'd graduated with honors. Charlie had ended up going to a different college than Dean, her wanting to pursue a career in graphic design. They still kept in close touch, though. They would Skype(after Charlie directed him through the phone on how to work it), call, and send each other emails, usually with links to thinks they knew the other would like. Charlie was still trying to get him to join Facebook but he refused, saying he didn't need to be that close to everyone he knew.

At this point, though, he was wishing he had them all as close as they used to be. With eyes cast down at the icy sidewalk, he started his walk home. That stopped, though, when he passed a local convenience store. A random idea had popped into his head. Since he didn't have anyone to spend Christmas with this year, maybe he could sent a letter to his old house and hope they'd get a smile from it. It was also probably the only address he could remember off the top of his head right now anyways.

He went inside and purchased a cheap Christmas card with a plain white envelope. In the store, he'd scrawled a short note inside of it before sealing it in the envelope. He'd drop it in the mail drop he passed on his way to his apartment and that would be that.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

Castiel was spending the holidays with his parents who had just moved into a recently vacated house in Lawrence, Kansas. They'd been looking to downsize and the last owner had moved out rather suddenly. There were some little things left behind, things that had probably fallen out of a box or two during packing or something of the sort. Castiel was currently holed up in what would be considered the guest room. There was a box of random items his parents had found and had decided to stuff in his room for now to either throw out or deal with later.

There was a less snow here than there was in Boston, a lot less. That could be because of weather changes or because of the fact that it was easier to get a snowplow through the wider roads here. Either way, it seemed to be less intense and making it through with a pair of rain boots and a heavy jacket was less taxing than it was back home. Well, Boston was home now because that's where he'd been going to school for the past 7 years. His schooling there hadn't stretched to 7 years because he was dumb, he was trying to get his Masters degree now. He already had his Bachelors degree and he wanted to further himself.

That desire was also pushed on by the fact that grants and scholarships were being thrown at him to continue to give Boston University another young mind to fill up their journals. He was making more money now being a student than he would have had be dropped off after his Bachelors degree. He'd already seen some of his friends struggling after leaving college because now that they're not contributing to a university, no one seems to even want them. Staying a student seemed to be his best course of action at the moment, especially since he actually had a steady income right from places wanting to use his 'brilliant mind' to further themselves.

One thing he was discovering about being in Lawrence is that it wasn't as thoroughly lit up as Boston was. There were occasional street lights and store fronts were lit up but that was about it. He knew that, right about now, a huge Christmas tree would be lit in downtown Boston as well as every building in sight. Streetlamps would have ribbons and wreaths around them and you'd hear various church choirs out caroling for tips. While he normally wasn't one for lavish displays, the fact that everyone got so into this particular holiday made him want to join in too. People, for this little part of the year, were just a little bit nicer to each other and he couldn't say he minded getting free things from friends and family.

His parents were currently out enjoying the friends they'd made in the time they'd been here. This left Castiel alone in the house to entertain himself. They'd offered to bring him with but he didn't want to be a burden on them and also have his social ineptness pointed out that much more. He'd refused almost immediately after they'd asked him, saying he was just fine with staying there by himself and watching t.v and having something to eat. He'd come down from Boston to spend time with his parents but it seemed like they had many other people they wanted to spend time with more. Castiel knew that thought was unnecessary but it still popped in anyways.

After wishing his parents a good night, he wandered into the kitchen and saw the mail scattered on the counter. His mother, as always, would throw the mail down for his father to go through later. It also seemed to be how she handled other problems, push them aside for Dad to deal with later. At least the usual mail pile was small right now, seeming to just be what had come in today. Gathering the envelopes, he flipped through them until he came to a Christmas card. It wasn't from anyone he or his family knew and the handwriting was definitely unfamiliar. It was small and neat with a definite curve to it. Setting the other things to the side, he carefully opened the envelope and pulled a simple card out of it.

It was your general run of the mill Christmas card, nothing fancy. Figuring this poor person had probably just written the wrong address, he opened it and read what the person had to say. What was inside definitely wasn't what he'd been expecting.

Hey,

I used to live in your house. I'm drunk in Boston

and it's the only address I know. Happy Holidays.

DW

 

Reading what was written there made Castiel's heart break just a little bit. So, with a small smile, he returned the sentiment.

"Happy holidays from Lawrence." said Castiel to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am very strongly considering making this one a longer fic.


	13. Tried to give a menu to a blind guy....

Castiel hated his job but it paid for bills while he made his way through college. The worst part about it wasn't the rude customers or the noise but the fact that it was a 24 hour restaurant and he normally got stuck with the late night shifts. Today in particular he'd been given a 9 pm - 2 am shift and it was killing him, especially since his day before this had consisted of three consecutive lectures where he'd nearly killed his hand trying to get all the notes down. His life wasn't ideal right now but he only had a few more months left until he was done with college and could start looking for another job with his degree.

His face was buried in his arms as he slumped over the hostess stand, dozing off a bit. He was the only waiter on staff right now because how many people are going to come into a restaurant at one in the fucking morning. The bell that was situated at the top of the entrance rang and woke him up, signalling that some people were coming in. Blinking, he rubbed his eyes and walked around the stand and grabbed two menus and handed them to the men who had just entered. In his sleep deprived state he'd failed to notice that one of the guys he'd handed a menu to was wearing black sunglasses and holding a cane. A moment of silence passed before the man made a comment, snapping Castiel out of his autopilot state.

"Oh...yes...I'll just read this." said the man, unfolding the menu and pulling it closer to his face.

Castiel looked up and really took the man in. The glasses and walking stick now seemed extremely obvious to him and he laughed at the comment. Normally he would have apologized but he was so tired at the moment that he honestly didn't care. He tried taking the menu back but the man held onto it stubbornly and, despite knowing the man couldn't see him, Castiel raised an eyebrow.

"Hey, why are you taking away my menu? I need to see my options here, don't I?" said the man, flashing a grin. The man behind him looked equal parts embarrassed and amused.

"Of course. Let me show you to your table. Just follow me." said Castiel who wasn't sure whether his response was fueled by wanting to continue the joke or because he felt half dead.

Two sets of footsteps followed him and he got the men a booth, watching as the one with long hair tried to help the blind man into the seat, the blind man pushing him off with a comment of 'I'm blind, not in a wheelchair.' Castiel couldn't help but smile at the exchange and stepped closer to the table, holding out his notepad and pen so he could write down the order.

"Can I start you off with anything to drink?" he asked, eyes focused on the white, lined paper

"Uh, yeah. I'll take a water. Dean?" said the man with the longer hair.

"I'll have a coke." said Dean, staring intently at the menu. The thing that really gave away that he couldn't see it, though, was the fact that he was holding it upside down and was 'looking' at the front of the menu.

Castiel gave a soft chuckle and wrote the drinks down before walking off. He filled up the glasses and walked back over to the table carrying the drinks, his order book safely tucked back into his pocket. Carefully, he set the drinks down and stepped back again.

"So, have you guys decided what you would like to order?" asked Castiel, hand already reaching for his order book again.

"Uh, yeah. I'll have the cobb salad and he'll take the double bacon cheeseburger." said the man with longer hair, folding his menu up and then snatching the one Dean was holding.

"Aw, Sammy. I get all tingly when you take control like that." said Dean, leaning back into the booth with an easy smile on his face.

Castiel smiled and wrote the orders down before walking away and handing the piece of paper to the line. It occurred to him that the two men could be a couple. It certainly seemed possible with how they acted married and the one named Sam seemed to be very doting on Dean. A smile came to his face again at that thought. Castiel himself didn't really do relationships. It wasn't because he had commitment issues but that no one really interested him. He'd lost his virginity to a girl named Meg at a college party when he'd overestimated his ability to hold his liquor. That was basically just a blur of memories, some of which he wasn't sure were even real.

That was as far as he'd gotten in that part of his life and he was fine with it. He was focused, going to school and determined to get a degree and be successful in life. He did sometimes have a bit of an ache for a companion but he just told himself he'd get to that later in his life. After all, he was only 25 and on the cusp of getting his Bachelors degree. He had his whole life in front of him to worry about finding a significant other.

The sound of the bell being hit repeatedly snapped him out of his haze and he looked over at the annoyed looking chef. Castiel held up a hand in apology before taking the plates and walking back out to the main dining room. Just to be sure, he spared a quick glance over at the hostess stand just to see if any one else had walked in while he'd been stuck in his head. Thankfully, no one else was there and he breathed an inner sigh of relief.

When he arrived at the table he was serving, he set the plates down in front of the people they belonged to.

"There you go. Call me if you need anything." said Castiel, putting on his best attempt at a winning smile.

"Oh, this looks fantastic." said Dean, suppressing the urge to burst into a fit of giggles.

Castiel was about to say he was glad the food looked good to him before he remembered, once again, that he was speaking to a blind man. He couldn't help the string of chuckles that escaped his mouth, his shoulders moving with every one.

"See, Sammy. He thinks I'm funny." said Dean, pointing in the approximate direction of Castiel.

"Yes, yes. You're a damn comedian. Eat your burger." said Sam, opening his napkin to get to his silverware.

"If you don't mind me asking, how long have you two been together?" asked Castiel, feeling curious.

Dean, who had just taken a bite of his burger, started to choke on it a bit. A fit of coughing and hacking later, he was wiping his mouth off and looking over at Castiel. "Excuse me?"

"How long have you two been together? You seem like a nice couple." said Castiel, confused as to why that question had brought on the choking response. Off to the side, he could see Sam with an awkward look on his face and focusing his eyes on his salad.

"Oh, we're not....we're brothers. See, Sam. This is what happens when you treat me like your wife." said Dean, his face screwed up in what Castiel could only assume was a glare.

"Yes, because being nice is treating you like my wife. Shutup and eat your burger, jerk." said Sam, giving Dean an annoyed look before stabbing his fork into the salad.

"Why don't you shut up, bitch." mumbled Dean, looking down at his meal and grabbing his burger again.

"Oh...I'm sorry about the assumption. I'll just...go." said Castiel, face flushed and feeling like he wanted to throw himself into a fire.

He didn't show his face back at that table until he saw Sam waving his hand for what he could only assume was the check. Castiel got the receipt printed out and walked over to the table, setting it down along with a pen. "Here's the check. I hope you had a satisfactory meal." said Castiel, a tight lipped smile forming on his face.

He backed away from the table, watching as they paid before going towards the exit. Castiel, like always when he worked a late shift, was leaned against the hostess stand. He was drifting away in his mind away when he felt someone tapping him. Thinking it was his boss, he straightened up and put a professional face on before turning around. Instead of his boss, however, he saw Dean.

"Hey, can I get a name to go with the sexy voice?" asked Dean.

Castiel was caught off guard for a few seconds and just stared at him, his mouth opening and closing. He was sure that guy would want nothing to do with him after making the assumption that he'd been involved romantically with his brother.

"Oh..um...Castiel." he said after clearing his throat.

"Castiel, huh? Well, that's a long ass name. I'll shorten it to Cas. So, Cas, would you be free Friday night?" asked Dean, a smile spreading across his face.

"Friday actually isn't a good day for me." said Castiel, seeing Dean's face fall. "I'm off on Sunday, though."

"Sunday it is then. Here's my number." said Dean, pulling out a piece of paper and handing it to Castiel.

It wasn't until the two men had left that Castiel spared a glance at the piece of paper. On it, sure enough, was a phone number and a little note from Sam saying 'good luck.' Yep, they were brothers alright.


	14. Sam and Dean Winchester Died Today

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean Winchester died today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for major character death. Also, if you haven't watched the newest episode I wouldn't recommend reading this since a big spoiler is contained in it.

_"Sam! Sammy!" yelled Dean as he searched through the rubble of the battlefield. It had ended in a huge explosion, everything within a 100 mile radius destroyed by the blast wave that had gone out when Amara died. Dean was supposed to be dead here, he knew it. There was too much destruction to offer any logical explanation as to why he was still here. He'd blacked out for a while only to come to with a bunch of things layered on top of him. He'd dug his way out, just like he did 7 years ago when he'd woken up in his own grave. This was now different. "Cas! Castiel!" His shouts seemed to go to no one, him looking like the only thing that was alive in the area._

_For hours it seemed he searched through the rubble as much as he could, not knowing whether he wanted to find something or not. If he didn't find something, that meant there was still a chance they were alive. On the other hand, if they were dead he at least wanted bodies to bury so he'd know where they would be until the Earth finally offed itself. "Anyone out there?! Please! Help!" he called, still hearing his voice send out into the emptiness before fading out altogether. No one was going to answer him this time, it was all over._

_"You sonuvabitch! Why didn't you show? This was your fault, you caused this! This was your mess and you still didn't show up to clean it! You sorry bastard! If I ever see you I'll kill you myself, understand?!" yelled Dean while his head was tilted up to the sky. His throat felt raw after yelling and he sunk to his knees, the charred earth giving way to his weight. His head hung and the tears finally came. They spilled out and didn't stop coming for a long time. When they did finally stop, his energy was gone and his skin was raw from the tears. He knew his eyes would be bloodshot and he could feel snot running down his lip thought he made no move to wipe it away._

_Not knowing what else to do, he laid down on the ground and just closed his eyes. He hoped something would just smite him where he lay, that everything would just end for him. The last threat had been eliminated and now he just wanted to rest. If that meant being thrown into the void for eternity then so be it. That was preferable to what he was feeling now._

_When he woke up it was to cold rain hitting his back. Blinking, he slowly sat up and looked to the sky, watching as rain first sprinkled down before transitioning into a downpour. The water turned the ground around him to mud, soaking through his clothes and plastering his hair to his forehead. Slowly, he stood up, careful to keep his footing in the slippery mud he was now standing in. For the longest time he just stood there in the rain while staring up at the sky. Goosebumps raised on his skin and he even started shivering a little bit. The weather around him didn't matter at all as the sky had him transfixed. He blinked every so often, more water sticking to his eyelashes, but still he stared._

_"What do you want from me?" croaked Dean, his voice that of a broken man who would surely be destroyed if one more problem landed on him. "What do you want from me?!"_

_Eventually, the rain stopped and the sun came out again. The added heat made him feel sticky and had sweat soaking his body, only adding to the bad smell of his clothes. He picked a direction and started walking. He had no destination in mind, only knowing that he had to keep moving. If he stopped moving he wouldn't be able to start up again. Days passed as he walked, his body growing weaker as it craved for food and water that he knew was nowhere near him. Even as his body started to shutdown, he kept going. His legs ached and he wanted to collapse but still he kept on, even when the sun had burned his skin and his lips were cracked and bleeding. It wasn't until the reached the edge of ground zero that he finally sunk to his knees. He was ready to die now but not in that place of black and nothingness. After flipping off the sky he collapsed on the ground and just let go._

\-------------------------------------------------------------

_Castiel was nearly destroyed by the effects of killing the darkness. How he'd managed to hang on he had no idea. Lucifer had been blown out of him by the sheer power that Amara had released when she was destroyed. When he'd woken up, nothing but death and destruction had been around him. It was like the world had ended and he was the only one left to see it. He'd gone around calling out for Sam and Dean even though he knew it would be unlikely that he would even get a response. If the effects of killing the darkness dying had nearly destroyed him it had to have killed them. No matter how strong and resilient they'd been over the past few years, when it came down to it, they were humans and humans did not last forever, not even Sam and Dean Winchester._

_He spent a long time walking around, just trying to find their bodies. His grace was recovering slowly, much slower than if he had stayed put and let it heal without any interruptions. He couldn't afford the time it would take to recover fully before he started searching. He needed to find their remains as soon as he can so he could give them a proper resting place. Those two men deserved much more than burning to ash on a bonfire. They deserved to be buried in a place of life and beauty, to have their graves decorated with flowers of every type and for anyone who came to that area to be forced to stand still just so they could take everything in._

_It took a month for him to locate Sam. His body had been near one of the edges of the blast wave. It looked like he'd died trying to get out of the ring of death but had died before he could fully make it. The once strong body had been reduced to a rotted sack of flesh. Since no bugs had been there to eat away at him he had simply started to melt in the hot sun. Bones were exposed in places and the body was swollen from the gases that had built up when decomposition had set in. Even though he knew it would drain his power more, Castiel got on his knees and set about repairing the body to what it had been before. It took a week before everything but the soul was restored. He didn't breathe life into the body. Instead, he gathered it into his arms and kept up his search for Dean's body._

_It was another two months before he found Dean. Dean had made it just outside of the destruction before he'd collapsed and given into death. Bugs had been able to get to his body easily from where he'd collapsed so he was nothing but a skeleton with the hunters usual clothes and weapons hanging around the bones. He set down the body he'd been carrying around with him down and began restoring the bones to what they'd been before. He knew there was no reset button this time, that they weren't coming back. Still, he wanted to bury them as they were, not decomposed and unrecognizable. Another week passed before Dean was as he used to be. He laid Dean on top of his brother and picked them both up, the weight of the two fully grown men barely registering with him._

_He walked on, not really sure what he was looking for. Finally, he came to the perfect area once he'd decided to enter a forest. A meadow had opened up to him and had presented the perfect place for the Winchesters to be laid to rest. He dug the graves himself, not caring about the work it took or that his grace was still stretched thin enough that the constant effort caused him to sweat and his muscles to ache. When they were both done, he set one into each grave before standing back and looking down at each grave respectively. Hours passed before he pushed the earth into each of the graves and then patted it down tightly after each of the holes was filled fully._

_Then, he turned around and walked away with no idea where he would go now. The two people he'd spent the last 7 years of his incredibly long life protecting were gone and his job was finally done._

_Night had fallen again when he stopped and looked up at the stars. There were so many of them out here with no artificial light to drown them out. His arms stretched out by his side and he pulled himself to his full height before sending one last message through the link he shared with his siblings._

_"Sam and Dean Winchester have been saved."_


	15. Dating the Professor

Dean was in college for mechanical engineering. He loved cars, had since he was a little kid. Classic cars in particular were his favorite, something made obvious given the fact that his own car was a 67' Chevy Impala. He'd inherited the car from his dad and had managed to fill her with modern parts that were compatible with her design so that she would run smoother. That didn't do anything about the fact that she guzzled gas like nobodies business, unfortunately. What he really hoped to do with his degree once he graduated was to eventually start a company that recreated classic cars that were able to run like modern ones. Meaning, smoother driving and better gas mileage so that you weren't emptying your wallet every other three days but everything else about the car still looked authentic. That was only a dream for now since he was a sophomore in college and still trying to get his basic studies out of the way.

One of those basic studies courses was economics. Dean had taken it in high school and had hated it. Still, it was a required class so he grinned and bared it. The one shining light in the class was the fact that the girl who always sat next to him would let him copy her notes. That was probably the only reason he was actually passing. The girls name was Lisa and she was a smart girl. Her notes were thorough with diagrams as well. They really saved his ass and he made sure to thank her every time she lent them to him. After all, his mom had raised him with manners. Dean would take notes of his own but his attention was usually...uh...occupied on more important things. By important things he meant the professor he had, Castiel Novak.

Now, Dean had long since accepted the fact that he was bisexual. He had been around 13 when he'd realized he liked guys and girls and that realization had freaked him out, made him think something was wrong with him. He'd gone to his mom about it and she'd been quick to reassure him that he was perfectly fine and that she loved him no matter who he liked. He was then introduced to the concept of bisexuality and told that many other people shared his feelings, that there was a whole community dedicated to people like him. While Dean had never sought out that community it reassured him to know that he wasn't the only one and that it also wasn't even rare.

That didn't mean Dean was quick to show off his bisexuality wherever he went, however. While he was comfortable in his own skin he knew that not everyone would be so welcoming of him. Homophobia was a big thing still in the US, especially in the south and biphobia was a thing even in the gay community. So, unless you were someone who was extremely close to Dean you had no idea that he was anything other than your standard heterosexual male. That act wasn't hard to keep up seeing as how he was 6'2, broad, and well muscled. You could also just feel a commanding presence about him but it also had a sort of soft edge to it if that made sense.

That professor, though, was threatening to blow the lid off Dean's whole facade just by existing. The man was a few inches shorter than Dean but still broad and well muscled and had a voice like he'd spent a lot of time swallowing rocks. His hair was perpetually a mess and he almost always had a 5 o'clock shadow painted across his strong jaw. The most striking feature of his, though, were his eyes. Those were an amazing shade of blue that seemed to either darken or lighten depending on the emotion the man seemed to have. They were hypnotizing, at least to Dean, and he'd sometimes find himself just staring at him before Lisa would snap him out of it, saying he was 'daydreaming again.'

Another one of those daydreams was currently taking place, this one involving the two doing some very questionable things on the professors desk. The sharp stab in his arm by a pencil brought him back to reality and he looked to his side to see Lisa's sharp glare. "I was spaced out again, huh?" Lisa gave a soft chuckle before playfully rolling her eyes and nodding. "You're lucky at least one of us is paying attention here." Looking away, Dean muttered 'you're telling me' under his breath.

"So, Dean. I have a deal for you. I ask the professor one question that he gets wrong. If he can't get it right, you take me out for dinner tonight." said Lisa near the end of class, leaning across the table and pushing her arms together to make her cleavage more visible. Dean was more than aware that Lisa was interested in him. It was painted across her face and screamed at him with everything she did. If she wanted to be 'just friends' she wouldn't be basically passing the class for both of them or getting annoyed if he looked away from her for too long. He knew she had it bad but he was too dependent on her by now for her notes that he didn't want to break the news to her which, yeah, was a dick move. She'd probably taken that to mean that he felt the same way and he could see why she'd take it like that.

Not knowing how to back out of this, he'd just given her a smile and nodded. Looking confidant, Lisa got the attention of their professor and waved him over, looking like she knew she was going to win. "Professor, will he go out with me tonight?" Lisa turned her head to look at Dean and she shot him a wink that made him want to run away. This wasn't going how he'd wanted it to. He'd agreed to this bet out of pity and he really wasn't interested in spending a night out with Lisa. Sure, the girl was nice but there were things he'd much rather be doing with his night than going on a date he didn't even want in the first place.

The professor ended up throwing him for a huge curve ball with his answer. It was a big, fat 'no' said with such conviction you would think he was talking about the possibility of a pet being put down. This threw even Lisa for a slight loop but she didn't take long to recover. She soon turned back to Dean with a big smile on her face. "So, when do you want to pick me up?" Dean ended up giving her a bullshit time, having absolutely no intention of actually meeting up with her. Again, dick move, but he also wasn't good with actually talking things out either. 

When class ended, Lisa walked out looking like she was on cloud 9 and Dean was just plain confused. Once all the other students had filed out he went to his professors desk and waited until he looked up. "Um...Professor Novak....about earlier...I'm just curious....why did you say no with such certainty?" Again, those blue eyes were looking up at him with such intensity that it made him feel like he was being scanned and a nervous feeling wormed its way into his stomach. He couldn't hold the gaze for more than a few seconds before he had to break eye contact to focus on something just beyond the mans face.

"Because, Dean, tonight you will be having dinner with me." said Castiel, his voice leaving no room for argument. Dean was floored and he ended up spending about 30 seconds just staring at the man with his mouth slightly open. "I'll pick you up at quarter to 8 outside your building. I have a nice place in mind, small and the food is good. I look forward to it." said Castiel, packing the last of his things away in his briefcase. "Oh, and Dean? I think it would be better if you start taking notes from now on if we're going to be seeing each other." Then, just like that, Castiel was out of the room and Dean was left staring at the doorway like a moron with his mouth still open. After the initial shock wore off, though, a new happiness took hold in his chest and he found that the rest of the day would likely pass by extremely slow since he now had a date he was actually excited for. What an unusual, but pleasant, turn of events.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got inspiration from this tumblr post: https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10156652509975422&set=gm.573719506116847&type=3


	16. Soulmates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "According to Greek mythology, humans were created with four arms, four legs, and a head with two faces. Fearing their power, Zeus split them into two separate parts, condemning them to spend their lives looking for their other halves." -Plato's The Symposium

Until you find your soulmate, you're stuck at the age of 25. You don't age, you don't get sick, you don't die. All you do is wander on in search of your other half. Dean has been alive for a long time and feels like he'll go crazy. His little brother, Sam, found his soulmate a while ago and is growing old with her, happy. It's weird for him to see his little brother looking so much older than him even when he's not. Eventually, Dean outlives all his friends and family. One by one, he watches them die because they found their soulmate and he's still alone.  
  
He goes through life, miserable, and with people always giving him glances of sympathy. He's well known in his home town by now as "the one who hasn't found his soulmate." Some people have even gossiped that maybe he doesn't have one. It's not like Dean hasn't mulled this over before. Maybe he's broken, maybe he doesn't have another half.  
  
Time goes on and changes around him. Kingdoms rise and fall, civilizations are created and destroyed and he observes it all. History continues on and Dean remains the same.   
  
Dean's been alive for centuries now, wishing suicide was an option. It wasn't like he hadn't tried before. The thing was that you couldn't die until your soulmate found you. Nothing could kill you; not illness, not physical wounds, and certainly not old age. You were immortal until you found them so you could grow old together.  
  
The year is now 2009 and Dean is still driving around in the Chevy Impala he purchased in 1967. He still wears the amulet his little brother gave him and he wears an ensemble of worn out jeans, biker boots, multiple shirts, and a leather jacket that has seen better days, faded and soft with age. He's long since cut his hair, knowing he needed to fit in with modern times. Currently, it was spiky and his eyes still shone a bright green and freckles dotted his face.  
  
He'd grown to like classic rock and still listened to music on cassette tapes, forever confused by modern technology. It had always taken him a while to get used to the various advances that society went through. He has a duffel bag in the backseat with his various belongings as well as some books tucked away in a box on the floor of the car.  
  
His favorite author is Vonnegut and the most read novels were Cats Cradle and Slaughter House 5. You could tell this because the paper backs were falling apart at the seams and the writing was faded in some places. The pages were all marked with dog ears and slightly curled.  
  
He was passing through another nowhere town and staying in another shitty motel. He checked in and went to his room, throwing his bag on the bed and turning the lights on. The wallpaper was peeling, the carpet had holes in it, and the bedding was minimal at best. Still, he'd stayed at worse places. At least it seemed to be devoid of rats and bugs.  
  
Since he'd just drove about 8 hours straight, he needed a drink. There was a bar across the way and he patted his pockets to make sure he still had his keys and wallet with him as well as his gun. When everything checked out, he left the room, locking it behind him, and walked over to the bar.  
  
Going inside, he went up to the bar and sat down on one of the stools, patting the counter. "Two shots of whiskey, please." He pulled out some money and set it on the bar, pushing it forward. The man who currently had his back turned to him held up a hand, indicating that he would be a minute.   
  
Dean sighed and crossed his arms on the counter and laid his head on them. He spaced off a bit and came back to the living world when two shot glasses were set down in front of him. He lifted his head up and blinked a bit before looking up at the guy, intending to give him a nod and a half hearted smile.  
  
Instead, his whole world stopped. The man in front of him had a sharp jaw, hair that stuck up every which way, tan skin, and blue eyes. He was sure he'd never seen eyes quite like those, none as appealing. His mouth drops open a bit and he can't look away. The sensation seems to be returned since the guy seems totally frozen in his spot.  
  
"Hi, I'm Dean."  
  
"Castiel."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone wants to take this on as a prompt for a story, leave a comment and I will give permission. All I ask is that you give me credit for the prompt if you do decide to take it.


	17. That's Not A Gun In My Pocket

Dean had gotten in a bar fight again which wasn't at all unusual for him. What was unusual was the fact that it had gotten big enough that Ellen had felt the need to call the police on him which was something she'd never done before. The fight wasn't his fault, though. He'd beat the guy fair and square at pool and when it had come time to take his money, the guy hadn't wanted to pay up. His temper was also flared by the six beers and two shots of whiskey in his system that he'd downed over the course of the night. While it made him lose emotional control, he wasn't stumbling around yet or completely slurring his word. As a seasoned alcoholic, Dean could hold his liquor.

His lip was busted open and he knew he'd have a black eye in the morning from the punch that the other guy threw and some bruised ribs. The guy he'd gotten in the fight with was worse off with a broken cheek bone and a broken arm as well as several bruises. When Dean got into fights, he didn't mess around. When he got into a fight, he was there to win. Anything less was unacceptable, something he'd learned early on in his life.

This was the reason he always carried a variety of weapons on him at all times. He liked to be prepared. You never knew what you would get into, especially with the places Dean usually hung around. Having backups could save your life if you lost a hold of your gun. Right now, though, that seemed to be stacking up against him as the male officer kept pulling out more and more objects from his person and listing them off as he found them. At this point he probably thought Dean was some sort of hitman.

"Okay, we have a gun, a box cutter, a switch blade, a pocket knife, a swiss army knife, another gun, a lock picking set...what's this..." said the officer, his voice coming out in a low grumble. At first Dean had thought he was just trying to sound intimidating but had soon discovered that was just his natural voice. Poor bastard, can't imagine seducing anyone while sounding like you had just eaten a bunch of rocks.

Dean was pulled from his thoughts of pitying the officer with the odd voice and mess of brown hair when he felt his hand grip his penis through his jeans. He jumped slightly and felt the other man fondle it. Dean's eyes were wide in shock for a second before he realized what was going on. This guy thought his penis was another weapon he was hiding. How about _that_ for an ego boost.

"Sir, what's this?" asked the Officer as he looked up at Dean, all the while still fondling the length in his pants. Normally, Dean would have started getting hard from this handling but the sheer hilarity of this situation was preventing such a thing from happening.

"That's my dick, officer." said Dean with as straight a face as he could manage. Immediately, the blue gloved hand released him and the officer backed off with a slight blush rising over his cheeks. 

"My apologies." said the Officer, now unable to make eye contact with Dean. Dean peered over at his chest to get a look at his name tag and saw that it said Novak. Ah, so this was the new officer he'd heard about. Dean was no stranger to getting arrested so new recruits to his towns police force were always on his radar. "Do you have any other weapons on you?"

"I don't know. I carry so many that sometimes I forget." said Dean with a shiteating grin on his face. Now he was just trying to make this guy uncomfortable for the hell of it. He was already going to jail so he might as well have some fun before he goes. "Be careful, though. You don't don't know how far down that dick of mine goes."

"Yes, well, I will keep that in mind." said Officer Novak with an emotionless voice before going back to his search. He ended up only pulling out a cellphone from Dean's pocket before declaring that Dean was free of weapons. "I'm going to ask Sheriff Mills what she wants me to do with you. Stay here."

"Where can I go?" asked Dean as he flexed his hands in the cuffs that were behind his back.

A few minutes passed before the officer came back and gripped Dean's arm, leading him to one of the two cop cars outside. "You're going to the towns jail overnight before being transported in the morning for assault charges."

Dean was pushed into the back seat of the cop car and he watched as the officer got into the front and started it. The heating came on to warm the cold car a bit before they headed off back towards Sioux Falls and back towards the Sheriffs Office.

"So, can I get a name?" asked Dean as he got in as comfortable a position as he could while practically sitting on his hands.

"Novak." came the clipped reply.

"I meant first name. I'm on a first name basis with all the other officers." said Dean, now leaning forward since that was the best alternative.

The officer heaved a sigh before glancing up into the rear view mirror. It was only now that Dean saw that his eyes were a striking blue. "Castiel."

"Castiel? I'm gonna call you Cas." said Dean, meeting his eyes in the mirror.

"I prefer Castiel." said the officer.

"And I prefer not being in jail but we can't always have our way." said Dean, his signature snark coming out.

"I can see why I was warned about you specifically when I joined this police force." grumbled Castiel in his monotone voice.

"Oh, I feel so special. Is my picture up on the wall and everything?" said Dean before being met by silence. "Oh, come on. Humor me. The guys in the county jail aren't that fun."

"Maybe you should stop doing things to get yourself into the county jail. That seems like a quick fix to your problem." said Castiel.

"What, and live an honest life? Where's the fun in that?" said Dean with a broad smile now stretched across his face.

"Well, I live an honest life and-" started Castiel before Dean cut him off.

"And you seem to have the personality of a brick wall. Not exactly the best motivation for me to make the switch, Cas." said Dean, a small chuckle escaping from his mouth.

"Castiel." 

"Cas."

"You're insufferable." 

"Really? Because I'm pretty sure my birth certificate says Dean."

Castiel turned the radio on and refused to talk for the rest of the ride. Dean, for his part, knew he was going to have some fun years ahead of him with Castiel getting involved in his roller coaster of a life and the piss poor coping skills that landed him in jail.


End file.
